Manipulation of the Mind
by trustno1-1987
Summary: With a bit of carefully executed manipulation, even the strongest can fall. 9Rose. Rated for the content of later chapters. Spoilers up to and including Father's Day.
1. Intro

**Title: Manipulation of the Mind**

**Author:** Trustno1

**Rating: **K I think, possibly K+

**Pairing:** 9thDoctor/Rose

**Disclaimer:** Unless I receive one hell of a Christmas pressie, Doctor Who, Rose and related... things... don't belong to me. However, I do own the planet Newtonia, and all related persons, plants, animals and ideas. So there.

**Spoilers:** Minor ones up to about Fathers Day, and an itsy one for the Doctor Who book 'Winner Takes All'.

**Summary:** With a bit of carefully executed manipulation, even the strongest can fall. (Not the greatest summary in the world, but oh well.)

**Introduction**

The wizened man with steel blue eyes that seemed to have escaped the aging process stared through the one-way mirror at a sparse, sterile room. The sole occupant of said room was lying on a metal cot with soft restraints around his wrists and ankles. He was sobbing relentlessly, a pitifully thin and exhausted sound for such a large man, and begging for someone to let him die.

The older man in the observation room wore a crisp, tailored white lab coat, with black stitching just above the left breast pocket informing people he was Dr. Stephen Duquesne, Area Director. He now turned to a man in his mid thirties, in an equally crisp lab coat with his name reading Dr. Carl Montgomery, Sector Manager.

"I want that… monstrosity, terminated immediately." Dr. Duquesne spoke softly, reverting his gaze once again to the writhing man in the sterile room. The younger Doctor, however, preferred to keep his eyes fixed on the older man and focus his thoughts on the instructions given which, despite the soft, almost conversational tone, he took very seriously indeed. He had spoken with the Area Director personally on many occasions, and been present at even more lectures and meetings during his 12 years in Newtonia's Darwin Area as Manager of Darwin-Romeo, but only twice had he heard the Director speak with such a calm purpose that it was bordering on dangerous. Neither time left the parties involved doubting the seriousness of his order.

The Area Director himself was as nervous at this change in character as much as the younger, but incredibly experienced Doctor, was. He prided himself on being an approachable, easy-going Director to Darwin, trusted by his superiors in the Empire to make to correct decisions regarding their research that would benefit mankind. He was respected by all who worked with him, particularly because of his attentiveness to detail in his worker's lives, whether it be remembering a birthday, or spouse's and children's names and inquiring after them. He spoke to all personnel at his sites wit the same consideration, regardless of whether they were conducting life-changing research, or worked as a janitor. He respected all members of the sites, and felt that any job, small or large, had a part in aiding mankind's advancement. It was for this reason that he interviewed all applicants for jobs personally, and prided himself on employing the best scientists the Empire had to offer, and he stood by that fact now, as he stood in the dark room staring through the two-way mirror. This was no malicious attempt on human life, nor an over-confident, power-crazed individual playing God. It was an accident, pure and simple. In some cases, accidents in science led to momentous discoveries, such as the example that every modern day scientist knew: the complete cure for cancer, discovered completely by accident in the 22nd Century.

This was no miraculous mistake. It was horrifying. The only astounding result was that only two scientists had been affected. Sad, yes, thought the Director ruefully, but it could have been much worse.

"The ecosystem immediately surrounding the hybrid was cordoned off, as per Code Yellow instructions as soon as the matter was brought to our attention, Sir. I'll contact the security officers and inform them to raise levels to Code Mauve, with termination effective immediately." After Duquesne gave a curt nod, Montgomery cast a tentative glance through the mirror, before leaving the dark room.

The Director remained motionless, with his thoughts for company, for a long while after he had left.

AN: There we have it, one introduction. Sorry about the lack of Doctor and Rose - I had to get a bit of cryptic background knowledge in first :-pFeel like reading more? I have at least 15 more chapters...


	2. Chapter I

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author: **Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who is still not mine, but again, Newtonia and all related persons etc, are figments of my imagination, and therefore cannot be taken. :-p Also, the names of galaxies mentioned don't belong to me, except Othello, which I renamed coz the original was just boring.

**Rating:** K+

****

**Chapter I**

They picked their way cautiously through dense green foliage on the humid little planet. Rose Tyler –19-year-old human companion on so many different levels, to the Doctor, a 900-year-old Time Lord, last of his species – was making her way with a little more caution than he, who was crashing through with his usual exuberance. It looked very much like an Earth jungle, and what did you find in the jungle? Bloody great big spiders, is what, as she had none too delicately pointed out to him as the emerged from the TARDIS. The Doctor however, flashed his usual grin and swore to protect her. The slight hint of sarcasm was not lost on Rose.

"So, is this whole planet a jungle then?" Rose asked, neatly sidestepping a liana that was growing a little too fast for her liking.

"No, there're lots of different natural environments like on Earth. In fact all the environments you'd find there are here – rainforest, desert, tropical, tundra, Mediterranean, temperate… plus a few others like one from another planet in the Andromeda Galaxy, where this planet is, that's a cross between a desert and something from Scotland." The Doctor held up a large green leaf for Rose to pass under and into a clearing. With no more fighting through vegetation, he took hold of her hand and lead her onto a paved – albeit small – path.

"You see," the Doctor continued to Rose, who was attempting to observe all of her surroundings; watch out for anything deadly; listen to the Doctor and have a small internal battle over whether she should enjoy holding the Doctor's hand this much. "There are essentially two halves to this planet – Darwin and Einstein. At the moment we're in sector Darwin-Romeo, and we're going to sector Einstein-Tango. Einstein or Darwin refers to the area – physics area and biology area in layman's terms."

"These guys either really like Earth's scientific history or they're a bunch of scientists." Rose remarked, raising her eyebrows at the Doctor.

"The latter. And the former." He grinned at her perplexed look. "This planet is dedicated entirely to the scientific research that will enable mankind to make great leaps forward in terms of further knowledge of the Universe. Humans are about three centuries into space exploration now. And I mean the proper stuff, inter-galactic travel to Andromeda, Dwingeloo, M33 Galaxy, which was renamed Othello incidentally, its discoverer was a bit of a Shakespeare buff. No quick journeys around the Solar System, or the Milky Way and back in time for tea for this lot. Anyway, top scientists from the entire Empire decided to get together on an uninhabited planet and carry out a lot more research and in a lot more space. Because they're all concentrated together, they can discuss their findings with greater ease than if they were spread out over the four galaxies of the Empire." He grinned enthusiastically, clearly loving this.

"So, this whole planet is kinda like a giant science project?" Rose asked finally.

"Erm, yeah I suppose it is." The Doctor couldn't help but smile at Rose's ability to make something so… fantastic, sound as mundane as something out of high school. Still, she looked suitably awestruck, as usual, and this made him smile even more.

"So, what's the planet's name?"

"Newtonia."

"Newtonia." Rose repeated thoughtfully, with only the barest hint of a question. "Imaginative bunch aren't they?" she mused with a grin. The Doctor just shrugged.

"They are pretty busy inventing ways to increase the life span of you puny humans so they can travel further, but whatever. If you think it doesn't take us scientists imagination to think of ways to prevent the immediate disintegration of a spacecraft travelling atfivetimesthe speed of light, that's fine by me." The Doctor gave a fake humph and attempted to storm off dramatically. This would have been pulled off perfectly had it not been for the fact that Rose still had a hold of his hand, and jerked it back as he strode off, forcing him to turn around to face her.

"You just ruined a perfectly good sulk, y'know that?"

"Ah, you weren't that mad at me were you?" Rose smiled. The Doctor's face broke into another grin.

"Nah, course not." He pulled her along again, this time towards a large silver booth, sticking out in the jungle like a sore thumb. This futuristic phone-booth-looking box could have been a phone booth for all Rose knew. It consisted of three sides of glass framed with the silver metal and an open front, with a small keyboard instead of a receiver inside. "To the teleporter!" the Doctor exclaimed, much to Rose's unguarded dislike.

"Fantastic." She muttered.

**End Chapter I**


	3. Chapter II

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** checks recent e-mails Nope, still not mine.

**Rating:** K+

**Chapter II**

Rose materialised next to the Doctor in an identical silver teleporter with a small gasp of surprise.

"That was better than I thought it'd be."

"Of course it was – this is the 29th Century; the first human Empire; the largest science lab this part of the Universe after that unfortunate incident on Zephloid Three. The Quevvils really didn't have a thing on this teleporter," the Doctor said, striding off towards a large brick building about a hundred yards away. Rose on the other hand, took a moment to gather her bearings after having her atoms dispersed over a distance about the size of Europe and then assembled again in approximately 0.5 seconds. They were now no-where near the jungle, and the air was pleasantly warm, with a slight breeze that ruffled her blonde hair. The building the Doctor was making a bee-line for didn't look much like a laboratory on the outside; more like an Edwardian, three storey brick school, complete with a rather large antennae and satellite dish on the roof. Odd trees were scattered around the large meadow that surrounded this building, and in the distance – maybe half a mile away – Rose could make out a series of smaller buildings, still resembling a small school campus rather than a scientific base. Casting a cursory glance over her shoulder, she gave a small start at what appeared to be half a space ship lying in the middle of a field, a couple of men wandering around and poking bits of it that were hanging down. She grinned at the resemblance to the Doctor.

"You coming then or what?" the Doctor said loudly over his shoulder. Rose jogged up to him, slipping her hand into his as she did so. The Doctor didn't seem to have noticed.

"So, this is where we're going to get the bit that the TARDIS needs, the, erm…"

"Micro-investigative-receptor to upgrade the multi-lingual-investigative chip in the TARDIS's inter-planetary scanner," the Doctor said.

"Yeah, that. And in Rose speak…?"

"It's a chip that makes the TARDIS hurry up and tell me what language a species speaks, and translates that language quickly. We're getting a bit of time delay at the moment; very inconvenient if you're being given 30 seconds to answer a question before being decapitated." He flashed her a quick grin, then whipped out his sonic screwdriver and set to work on the keypad next to the door.

"Y'know, we could try just knocking for a change," Rose suggested as the Doctor glanced furtively round the door and stepped inside.

"Nah, more fun this way." They were inside what looked like a large living room, with furniture placed haphazardly around from every era Rose could think of. An entire wall was covered with hundreds of incredibly flat T.V. screens that showed everything from views of the campus they were on, to other areas of the planet, and a couple of T.V.'s with normal looking television programmes on them. A kitchen area was set back in a far corner with something that looked suspiciously like the replicator thing from Star Trek that made food appear, in Rose's opinion. Not that she'd seen many episodes, only when she couldn't be arsed to change the channel. And through a set of sliding doors to the rear, a small, energetic looking man in his late 50's was running towards them.

"Er, Doctor?"

"Doctor!" the man yelled happily, stopping just before he barrelled into both of them and began pumping the Doctor's arm up and down, much to the astonishment of Rose. "Long time no see! How're doing? What are you doing here? Don't tell me you've fiddled something else to death and need me to replace it again," he sighed dramatically. The Doctor merely gave him the mock affronted look he had graced Rose with earlier.

"Hello, Greg. And for your information, I don't fiddle or break things – I just need an upgrade. Oh, this is Rose. Rose Tyler." His friend – Greg – turned to Rose as if seeing her for the first time. She had already decided, with his comment about the Doctor's fiddling, that she would like him, and she was won over. He had the look of a kind granddad, with excited, intense blue eyes that reminded her of the Doctor's. He couldn't keep still, reminding Rose of a kid at Christmas, or the Doctor most of the time, and looked like a very fun scientist, instead of Rose's first thought of lots of nerdy people in glasses with stern faces.

"Nice to meet you," she smiled, offering her hand.

"Very nice to meet you," he replied, smiling and raising his eyebrows at the Doctor. "London, England, beginning of the 21st Century?" The Doctor nodded. "What's a beautiful young woman like you hanging around with riff-raff like this!" Greg asked. Rose giggled at the Doctor's frown.

"Well, he blew up my place of work about two minutes after we met, took my hand and told me to run for my life. So I did," she smiled, directing all of this at the Doctor, who smiled back. Greg observed this little exchange with interest. As Rose had done with him, so he had made his mind up about the Doctor's friend almost instantly. She was young, about 20, but she looked to have her wits about her, which was confirmed with her previous comment. He particularly liked the way she gazed around the scientist's break room, with a kind of child-like awe that he often saw in the Doctor's eyes. He supposed this was one of the reasons he asked her to travel with him. If the wonder that she was looking at a massive projection of the Human Empire was anything to go by, she looked to be an attentive – and he hesitated to say 'companion' – to the Doctor, a person that never tired of anything that was thrown her way, and attacked each day with as much gusto as the last. Again, strikingly similar to the Doctor, he mused.

"So, Rose isn't your companion?" Greg asked, with a slightly confused frown. In reality, he could tell exactly what Rose was to the Doctor, he merely liked having fun, and seeing his friend getting a little flustered, if only for a moment.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Oh, well, no reason. So," he dismissed it with a clap of his hands, but not before he gave Rose a small wink. "What can I get you, Doctor?" he asked as he led them away through the doors.

**End Chapter II**


	4. Chapter III

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** I keep the Doctor and Rose locked in my closet and the TARDIS chained up in my garage. Seriously - they still aren't mine.

**Rating:** K+

**AN: **Thankyou for the reviews - I love writing, and it's always nice to see other people actually like it too. :-)

**Chapter III**

"It's been wonderful to see you again, Doctor, and lovely to meet you, Rose," Greg said as he escorted them to the door they had entered through a few hours previous. "I suppose this is only a whirlwind visit, yes?"

"'Fraid so, Greg. I'd sort of promised Rose we could watch a star being born in the Milky Way quite a few billion years ago." Greg raised his eyes in approval.

"Birth of our Solar System! I'm impressed."

"It's about time too. First thing genius here – " Rose nodded her head towards the Doctor – "took me to see was the end of the world in the year five billion." Rose grinned at the scientist's response to this – namely giving the Doctor a disapproving look, as if berating a student – and nudged the Doctor in the ribs.

"I did explain. And apologize."

"Yes, well, regardless of that…unfortunate incident shall we say, it appears that you haven't forgotten how to date after all," Greg said pointedly. He smirked to himself as both friends blushed simultaneously, and Rose gave a snort of laughter.

"Dating? The Doctor! I don't think that word's even in his vocabulary! And if it was, he sure as hell wouldn't do it conventionally!" She dissolved into a small fit of giggles, holding onto the Doctor's arm for support, which Greg found especially amusing.

"I can date thank you very much," the Doctor said indignantly. "I've not been around for 900 years without picking up a few tips. I'll have you know I'm very good at dating when the occasion calls for it – very attentive, say all the right things, pick great restaurants, dance…"

"… attack monsters with Champagne bottles," Rose managed to say between bouts of giggling. Greg looked inquisitively at them, but it appeared that this was a private joke.

The Doctor frowned at his 'friends', and decided he didn't like the looks in either of their eyes; Greg's that appeared to be silently asking if this occasioned 'called for it', and Rose's that had a mischievous glint in, like she was planning something.

"Doctor, I bet you haven't had a date in… in…"

"Years?" Greg supplied helpfully.

"Maybe decades?" she countered, grinning.

"Or centuries?"

"I'm still standing here you know."

"So you are," Rose said kindly, patting his arm fondly. Funnily enough the Doctor didn't find it as annoying, or patronising, as he would have imagined, simply endearing. "I suppose you're getting restless aren't you, what with there being no immediate danger or mortal situation to get us into again?"

"I'm not the only one good at that – you're getting… no, scratch that, you _are_ pretty jeopardy friendly yourself. You were being attacked by Autons when we met, and I had to save you a few times over in the space of a few hours if you remember…"

"That was entirely your fault, and didn't I find out what the transmitter was – not that it was especially difficult using my eyes to see the largest wheel in England – and end up saving all our lives?"

"And I only have to leave you alone for two minutes and you're getting attacked by zombies, or getting burnt to a crisp, or held hostage…"

Greg watched this playful banter with amusement. Mainly because they seemed to have forgotten he was even standing in front of them. But also because the jokes, the light-hearted shoves and good-natured teasing reminded him of an old married couple, and the thought of the Doctor being domesticated by this girl was definitely amusing. He was frankly astounded by the level of trust and intimacy these two shared, particularly Rose, who had given up her old, familiar and safe life, to travel the Universe, coming face to face with untold dangers, all with an alien who had blown up her place of work about five minutes after she had met him.

Greg saw the brief but meaningful glances they both shared; the way one would sneak a glance, then the other, then both sets of eyes would meet at the same time. He saw the familiarity with which they held hands, and the slight possessiveness of the Doctor's, particularly the glare he had given one of Greg's younger co-workers as he passed Rose, giving her an appreciative glance. It was a frown that said ' Look all you want, but she's mine and that's as close as you're getting'. He guessed the Doctor had given a few of those looks since Rose had been travelling with him.

The bond Greg saw in the two of them was far more than mere companions; better than friendship, or even the relationship between boyfriend and girlfriend, and he thought that was just fantastic. And he was absolutely certain that they both knew the kind of relationship they had – they definitely knew how much the other meant to them – even if they only knew it subconsciously, and hadn't voiced it to the other. Greg had a sneaking suspicion that Rose knew more than she was letting on to the Doctor, and imagined she would be the first to make a move; to snap her fingers and tell the Doctor to get his ass in gear. He grinned at this thought and the mental image it conjured up.

Greg pulled himself from his thoughts to find the Doctor and Rose had indeed forgotten all about him and were now laughing at something.

"I'd better let you go – that upgrade takes a while, and you don't want to keep Rose waiting to see the birth of our Solar System."

"Yeah, come on you. It was fantastic meeting you, Greg. I'll drag the Doctor back so I can come visit you again," Rose smiled, giving Greg a hug. The use of the Doctor's favorite word was not lost on him.

"Absolutely. You can come see the missus as well, she'd love to meet you, Rose, and see you again, Doctor."

"Definitely, Greg." They shook hands warmly. "Say hi to Sara for me won't you?" the Doctor asked, then, leaning in a little closer, and saying in a furtive whisper: "and don't think I don't know what you've been up to, Gregory Fox. Nothing gets past this Time Lord."

"I do hope not," Greg whispered back, looking pointedly at Rose. Confusion flittered across the Doctor's face momentarily, quickly replaced by his trademark grin. He gave a small nod then straightened up.

"Right, I think the TARDIS is about ready for her upgrade now, don't you?"

"Yep. Goodbye Greg." They all waved each other off, and Greg watched the Doctor and Rose reach for each other's hands simultaneously, interlocking their fingers with ease. 'They've sure had a lot of practice at that,' he thought with a grin, as he made his way back into the Laboratory.

**End Chapter III**


	5. Chapter IV

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Nope, the only Doctor Who related parcel I have received is the shooting scripts book - woohoo! Not the real thing though, so, not mine.

**AN:** Thanks for the reviews! I'm getting addicted to them now I think, lol. And this chapter is sort of the beginning of the proper plot - the other stuff was background stuff - necessary, but background all the same. Enjoy!

**Chapter IV**

"I quite like that teleporter; it's a very smooth ride," Rose mused innocently as they began through the jungle once more.

"Are you insinuating that my TARDIS is not smooth?"

"Are you actually there when we crash – I mean land?"

"It isn't too late to dump you out of an airlock you know," the Doctor said, as they rounded a small grove of banana trees.

"You know you'd miss me too much," she shot back, seeing a smile tug at his lips.

"Yeah, all the clothes strewn about my control room, the domestics, the – clumsiness," he grinned as she sprawled on the ground.

"That wasn't my fault, that plant tripped me up. And I think I got prickled," she complained, hauling herself up, and immediately wishing she'd done it a little more slowly, as the Doctor lurched alarmingly to the left. He was by her side in an instant.

"You okay, Rose?"

"Erm, yeah." She turned her left forearm towards her and saw the bright green needle embedded in the flesh, which was already red and stinging, like the time she got stung by a wasp when she was 11. A sudden wave of fear washed over her. "Is it… poisonous?" she asked, half annoyed at how feeble her voice sounded. The Doctor cast his eyes around for the culprit, and she saw him visibly relax.

"No, it's fine. Disables it's prey long enough to eat it because the venom paralyses them. They usually attack animals significantly smaller than you though, so it isn't gonna eat you, don't worry," he smiled at her. "I think it was probably more likely a defensive manoeuvre than an attack, since you did trip over it." He silenced her argument with a finger against her lips, so she had to content herself with glowering at him. "I'll get it out." He took her arm in cool, strong hands that had a calming effect on her. "One quick pull and it'll be done, okay?" She nodded. Her arm was beginning to feel hot and heavy despite the Doctor's hands on it, the fingers of his left hand rubbing soothing circles above her wrist.

"Ow!" she cried, as quietly as she could, as he pulled it from her arm.

"There! No problem." He ran his fingers gently over the angry red bump, and contemplated asking her if she wanted him to run the sonic screwdriver over it; just in case. "D'you want me to just, take a look with the sonic screwdriver?" he asked as they resumed holding hands. She thought about it for a moment, then shook her head.

"No, it's okay, I'm sure it'll be fine by the time we get back. Besides, don't want to waste the batteries," she said with a small laugh. He nodded to himself and led her back to the TARDIS, catching in his peripheral vision the way Rose held her arm gingerly at her side, and the grimace on her face with every step they took. He knew she was being brave, and putting up with the pain, but he resolved that as soon as they were back, he'd take her straight to the Medical Room and check her arm out properly.

The TARDIS. The wonderful blue box that she called home. She could crawl into bed and ignore the heat that was spreading through her body like fire. Every muscle ached, like it was too heavy, and her head hurt so much. She just wanted to

_slip into unconsciousness _

sleep. Rest the body that felt so unnatural to her. She could feel her eyes attempting to close already as the Doctor stopped to open the door. Her feet carried her to the opposite end of the control room, and almost out the door, before the Doctor caught up with her.

"Rose come on, I'm taking you to the Medical Room, that plant's affected you." She started to protest, but felt so tired and strange that she didn't have the energy to. Instead she shrugged indifferently. Somehow, this made the Doctor even more nervous; Rose hardly ever went anywhere she didn't want to without a fight, and even if persuaded (or forced) she more often than not went begrudgingly. Now, she was just… apathetic, following the Doctor's guidance blindly.

"Sit up here," the Doctor whispered, pointing to a large, comfortable looking cot. She sank into the cushions as another wave of tiredness swept over her and closed her eyes, feeling herself slip towards

_unconsciousness_

sleep. A faint buzzing entered her ears, and cool hands were pressing gently on her arm, where the pain was beginning to subside somewhat. She relaxed her head into the hand that was stroking the hair behind her ear, but she opened her eyes shortly after at the loss of contact.

"Doctor?" Rose mumbled. She wanted to tell him to put his hand back – it was relaxing and sending her to sleep.

"Shh, it's okay, just this…" he held up a funny instrument, shaped like an electronic diary and emitting the same blue light and buzzing as he sonic screwdriver. "I'm not detecting poison or anything in your body; the only thing wrong is your temperature is slightly higher than it should be, but that's just your body's response to that plant." He was still speaking softly, and Rose had to strain to hear him properly. Least there wasn't anything wrong with her – maybe he'd let her go to sleep now, preferably with his hand in hers…

_but why would he do that?_

Rose shook her head. She couldn't imagine where that Voice came from – must be the temperature, she decided.

"Do you want to stay here or go to your room?" the Doctor asked.

"Erm, stay here, I don't feel like moving right now." He nodded and sat down in a chair that was next to the cot. The last thing Rose knew before drifting off was the Doctor's hand tightly squeezing her own.

**End Chapter IV**


	6. Chapter V

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Alas, they belong to far richer souls than I.

**Rating:** Maybe T for this chapter.

**Chapter V**

The Doctor was in front of her. An arm's length away. He was facing away from her, so that all she saw was the back of the leather jacket that was just so… him. His ears stuck out too. She tried to move her arm to touch him, but she couldn't. She tried to call him, but he drifted away.

'Doctor!' she shouted, but it was in her head; the words wouldn't form.

_He's leaving look, Rose. They all do eventually you know. No-one sticks around people like you for very long, Rose. He'll find another companion, one that doesn't cause as much trouble as you; annoy him with questions; act like a stupid little ape. He'll find someone else, another girl, and fall in love with her, not you, coz he doesn't love you, Rose. _

'He does!' she screamed at the malicious, sly, Voice. 'He loves me! And I love him! We know it! He'll tell me eventually, he's just nervous, he'll tell me, I know it!' she yelled in desperation at the unknown Voice.

_You hope it. You hope he loves you, you hope he tells you eventually. And that's a very dangerous thing is hope. It gives rise to expectation, and you only get disappointed when you expect, because expectations get higher and higher and higher, and it never works out. Ever. You get disappointed about everything then, Rose. Everything. Life isn't worth living then. _

Suddenly, the Doctor appeared in front of her. His hand was resting against her cheek again, and she could feel the unusual pulse beating beneath the skin. His eyes shone bright blue.

'He's going to kiss me!' she thought excitedly. 'I don't care if it's only a dream, he's going to kiss me, and tell me he loves me…'

"Go away, Rose. Go home." His voice wasn't his own. His face was impassive. They were both void of all the emotions she loved, and she thought her heart would stop. "I don't want you here anymore."

He disappeared. Rose could hear the cruel voice laughing mercilessly in the back of her mind, laughter spreading like poison through her, burning her…

'He wouldn't do that, this is a dream, a nightmare, please."

_It's a nightmare all right. But are you sure you're dreaming?_

Rose jerked upright, the bedclothes in a heap on the floor, tank top and shorts – 'when did I get changed?' – sticking uncomfortably to her clammy skin. She was cold, yet at the same time felt like there was a fire burning through her veins. She stumbled across the room to where a water pitcher stood on a table with a tumbler beside it. She drank a glassful down quickly, felt it cooling her all the way down to her stomach, and chanced a glimpse at the mirror. A deathly pale ghost looked back at her, skin the color of candle wax, with dark eyes surrounded by darker hallows . 'God! What the hell must I have been dreaming?'

Rose was walking tentatively down the corridor back to her room when she heard hurried footsteps behind her.

"Rose, you're awake! Are you feeling – God, Rose you look awful!" the Doctor broke off mid-sentence and placed a wonderfully cool hand on her forehead then cheek.

"I'm fine, really," she said looking at him in earnest. "I just had a nightmare or something. My arm feels fine, I feel fine." She showed him her left arm, with a small red spot being the only indicator of there being anything there. Although the Doctor didn't look especially convinced, her cheeks, he noticed, were starting to pink up and not look so pale, though there was a darkness about her eyes. Must be the lighting, it was quite poor in this corridor. He nodded slightly and she relaxed.

"I'm gonna go get a bit more sleep" She indicated her open door and bed, which was looking very inviting right now. "Will you sit here with me, for a while?" Almost as soon as the words crossed her lips she wondered what on earth possessed her to ask him that – she shouldn't have said that at all. She tried to think why it felt so very wrong to ask, but her head started hurting and she stopped – she could think about it in the morning. Let the Doctor do what he thought was right. Which of course was leaving her alone, not staying with her at all.

"Course I'll stay here," he said kindly, this time ignoring the chair and instead sitting on her bed next to the curve of her knees. Rose's heart gave a small leap, but something again stirred in the back of her mind; something that she couldn't quite describe, yet at the same time, couldn't quite ignore.

The Doctor watched Rose's eyes darken again, as if a shadow had passed over them, and a small seed of unease planted itself in him. He tried to ignore it for now, instead concentrating on rubbing small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb, relaxing her to sleep. Once she'd had a good night's sleep she'd be fine.

He hoped.

**End Chapter V**


	7. Chapter VI

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Although I own many wonderful things, Doctor Who is not one of them.

**AN:** Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews :-) I'm never quite sure if I'm waffling too much, or not describing enough, and I'm not as good at working with/writing characters that are already established, so your reviews help a lot:-DLindz

**Chapter VI**

Rose emerged from the fuzz of sleep gradually, with what felt like a nagging headache at the base of her skull. Grateful that that was now the only part of her that did ache, she dismissed it almost instantly and began getting dressed.

"Hello!" the Doctor said cheerfully as Rose strolled into the control in her usual attire of jeans and jacket. Outwardly, she seemed fine – her usual energetic self and he told himself to stop worrying so much. She'd hate it if he started fretting over her like a mother hen. No. He'd just quietly observe, just in case. Not that there should be any lasting effect on her, really. Plants like that didn't target humans as prey. A voice in the back of his mind whispered, 'Well, it is a research planet isn't it? No telling what they're doing, really.' He promptly pushed it away, but the seed of doubt had been planted firmly inside of him and he subconsciously realised that he would thoroughly scrutinize Rose's actions to the point of paranoia.

"So, what are we doing today?" Rose asked. She felt a lot better now that she had woken up fully, though she still couldn't remember the nightmare. And the dull, almost imperceptible ache remained in her head, virtually at the back of her mind. Rose pushed it forcibly away. She didn't particularly care as to what it was exactly, but it was irritating her, especially when she started to think about it, to attempt to feel what it was. She'd tried that just after getting up, but all that happened was feeling a sense of hopelessness and loss sweep over her. She supposed it was the remnants of the dream. The harder you tried to clutch at the fragments of a dream – the feelings you had; the thoughts; sounds; sights – the quicker they slipped though your mental grasp like very fine grains of sand.

And so, Rose resolved not to think about it – more often than not, something would trigger a thought process in her brain, and she'd remember the dream. If not - well, it obviously wasn't a very good one.

"The TARDIS is just floating in space for a while whilst I install the upgrade – it's easier than if we were on the planet, there's less magnetic interference from the planet, or from the experiments going on down there. It should take about six more hours or so. Then we'll go see the birth of your sun." The Doctor watched intently as Rose sat down on a couch next to the console. No cautious movements; no holding herself strangely; same inquisitive, penetrating stare. He sighed quietly to himself. He was getting far to jumpy for his own good – it wasn't healthy, even if it was Rose he was worried about.

"Great! And I suppose you'll be tinkering down there – " she inclined her head towards the grilles on the floor, " – for the majority of that time?"

"I do not 'tinker'." He leant against the support column next to Rose's chair, giving her a stare that she guessed was supposed to intimidate her or something. It didn't.

"All right then, fiddle."

"I don't do that either. I continually perform complex technical adjustments to the TARDIS to ensure she travels smoothly," the Doctor replied smugly. Rose laughed loudly.

"Ha! No offence to the TARDIS, who doesn't appreciate you 'adjusting' her most of the time from what I can tell, we very rarely have a smooth landing. And the only reason you constantly tinker and fiddle with odd wires and panels and things is because you get bored incredibly easily and you can't keep still." Now it was Rose's turn to look up smugly at the Doctor. He stared back briefly before giving a small huff of annoyance at the fact that she had so obviously seen through him and told him so, then walked around to the couch. Rose had spread herself out quite comfortably, propped up on one arm with her legs lying across both cushions. She watched with amusement as he pushed her legs out of the way, sat down at the opposite end, then turned to her with a rather petulant look on his face. She smiled back, and stretched her legs out again, this time over the Doctor's. She watched the range of emotions flicker across his face, before he seemed to decide on giving her another smug smile.

"You obviously have nothing better to do than sit on your arse all day and watch me 'fiddle', so you can't talk."

"No, I know how to relax, a concept that it evidently completely foreign to you. I bet you get restless way before I do, and pretend you need to go 'fix' something." She grinned mischievously at him, her eyes daring. Never one to pass up a challenge, particularly when he could prove himself better than humans, he grinned back, his own eyes glinting.

Besides, he did know how to relax.

**End Chapter VI**


	8. Chapter VII

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** All Doctor Who related things belong to the BBC. I am not the BBC.

**AN:**Small note to all the lovely people who have reviewed (and anyone else reading): thank you! first. :-D And secondly,I'm appalling at writing romance - I can't doromance in real life and I can't seem to do it with characters, even established ones :-S I'm trying to edit all the chapters I've written so far to include some shippyness, but I apologize if it's shocking, which it probably will be. Hopefully towards the end of the fic (if you stick around that long, lol)I will have gotten the hang of it!

**Chapter VII**

Before long Rose found herself daydreaming. She felt a little guilty after only having gotten out of bed half an hour ago and not embarking on another adventure yet. 'Then again,' she thought, 'when I first met the Doctor we saved the world from plastic, then saved most of an observation deck, then the world again, only from zombies this time, with only a few chips and a cup of tea since starting out! I think I deserve a break every now and then.'

The primary subject of Rose's daydreaming was the Doctor. Not too unusual since he was the one taking her around the Universe – she frequently wondered where he'd whisk them off to next and what (as she was quickly becoming accustomed to) danger they'd get into in the name of saving someone, some species or some planet (almost always Earth – it also appeared to be rather jeopardy friendly). But now she found her thoughts wandering a little further than the next destination he'd be taking her to. Well, if she was perfectly honest with herself, these particular thoughts had been popping up almost as soon as she had begun travelling with him. It was strange - if someone had told her a few months ago that she would spend almost all of her waking hours with a man who looked old enough to be her dad (but could actually be her great-great-great-great... grandad), including living with him, she would have laughed so hard, then thought they were a little weird. But if they hadthen told her that she would be attracted to more than just his lifestyle, and feeling more than just companionship, or friendship, she would have thought they were very weird.

Except that almost immediately Rosewas wondering if there could be anything other than friendship; found herself looking too deeply into his cool blue eyes that held such an immense range of emotions she felt as though she were drowning in them. Butterflies inside her stomach fluttered more wildly when he grabbed hold of her hand thanmost of the times she was with Mickey, she realised with some regret. And it felt so natural for him to grab her hand and in the way their hands fit together in a way hers and Mickey's never seemed to. It was perfectly natural for her to travel with a man - an alien - she'd metless than a day before, a man she considered hers from the word go. She wondered if it was because he chose her - not once but twice - that she felt as if she belonged to him, and himto her. It certainly felt like that on the Space Station he took her to 5 billion years after the day they met, and he had gone off with the tree-person - Jabe, or something. Rose was shocked to feel jealousy creeping over her as he offered his arm, and a green eyed monster had whispered that was _her_ arm. She wondered, after they left Adam in his mum's sitting room, if the strange side glances and stares the Doctor had given her whilst Adam was on board, was the Doctor's own green eyed monster. Especially after the curious expression appeared to have been left with Adam on Earth.

However now, Rose was wondering how long he could manage to remain on the sofa with her legs draped casually over his and her eyes trained on him. With the Doctor being alien and all - and rather difficult to read sometimes - she still was a little unsure if this would constitute as something acceptably friendly or something more meaningful. The fact that they were so comfortable around each other since they had met confused her even more. He was either a naturally friendly person, or he felt something a little more than friendship, and had since they met. Rose personally hoped it was the latter.

In the instant this thought ran through her mind, a strange feeling coursed through her, something akin to déjà vu. It felt like a guilt she had already experienced; the inexplicable guilt you often feel when you're a young child and a parent shouts at you for something. You don't know why they're shouting; you only know that what you did was wrong, making you feel all the more guilty for not understanding why.

Rose gave a half-hearted attempt to ignore whatever it was, but the sensation, and what felt like the onset of a headache, persisted. If the Doctor had chosen that particular moment to look at Rose he would have seen the same empty darkness descend on her eyes once more. He did not, however. He was gazing into space, willing the TARDIS to do… something… so he could jump up and do something himself. He was beginning to get restless. Comfortably so, what with Rose's legs resting over his, pleasantly warm and heavy, but restless all the same.

With a burst of mental energy, Rose pushed harder at the unknown and decidedly irritating sensation. 'I'll be damned if I'm gonna be made to feel guilty when I don't know what I've done!' she thought angrily. This seemed to work better, and she felt the strange feeling begin to disappear. Only, it wasn't quite disappearing per se. More like, dispersing, as if there were some residual energy of it left inside of her. Rose simply gave herself a mental shake – she was just imagining things for the sake of it – and drew her attention back to the Doctor.

The Doctor, who was tapping a fast, strangely soothing rhythm on the side of Rose's leg where his right hand and arm were resting. She had absolutely no doubts that the Doctor was itching to go fiddle with his beloved TARDIS, and that he had no idea he was currently causing a new, definitely not unwelcome feeling, to flow through Rose.

"When you've finished using my leg as a drum kit…" she said, managing to keep her voice indifferent somehow, despite expecting it to sound a couple of octaves higher. She was rather proud of herself for that. The Doctor looked down in surprise.

"Oh. Right." He folded his hands over Rose's jeans clad legs. "What, then?"

"'Scuse me?"

"Well, you kinda tailed off. I assumed you were going to say what you were going to do after I'd finished tapping," he remarked to a slightly perplexed Rose.

"Um, yeah. Er, d'ya want a cuppa?" He considered this briefly, then grinned. "Great! Me too. Off you trot – it'll keep you busy." He sighed dramatically as he heaved himself off the couch – both slightly regretted the loss of contact, but said and did nothing.

"'Spose you'll be wanting choccie biccies as well?" Rose flashed him a smile that she knew he couldn't resist, and settled back down. So far he had lasted all of twenty minutes. By the time he'd polished off a cup of tea and half a packet of biscuits, his 'special hearing, tuned to the TARDIS's needs' would have picked up on something that needed 'fixing'. She'd bet her half of the biscuits on it.

**End Chapter VII**


	9. Chapter VIII

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, please don't sue me, I'm poor.

**Chapter VIII**

Rose wandered around the labyrinth of corridors in the TARDIS. Just as she had thought, the Doctor managed to polish off his tea and half a dozen chocolate biscuits, stare alternately into space and at Rose, before jumping off the couch claiming to have heard 'something' in the general vicinity of 'everywhere', if the vague sweeping of his arm around the control room were any indication. Rose had rolled her eyes good-naturedly and let it go gracefully, even though she knew she had won.

Deciding that she didn't want to spend about five hours watching the Doctor's head bob up and down under the grilles, and occasionally see small sparks, or hear the odd bang and alien expletive, Rose told his rather unresponsive form she was off to explore the TARDIS.

Thus, she found herself in a gigantic, dark room; it was about four times the size of her mum's entire flat, if she had to hazard a guess, and it contained an equally huge 3D model of the Universe. She was currently standing in the projection of the Milky Way, and had discovered with delight that if she concentrated her thoughts particularly hard on an area of the Galaxy, the TARDIS would make it zoom in. The Solar System – hers – sped towards her, just level with her head, at a remarkable velocity, before coming to an abrupt halt, planets and moons orbiting a shining Sun about the same size as a dining room table. Rose just stared at the perfect replica of Earth orbiting slowly around her, before realising, with some embarrassment that her jaw was trailing the floor in a rather undignified way. She closed it hurriedly.

Rose spent almost two hours in the astrology lab, looking at her Galaxy, the system they were in at the moment, and the planet they had just visited, as well as taking a brief glimpse at elsewhere in the Universe. She was wondering how much longer the upgrade would take, and if the Doctor would have enough time to point out some interesting, safe planets for them to visit, when she was overcome with fatigue. It crept up on her slowly, then engulfed her like a tidal wave; Rose just managed to make it to a small couch in the corner of the room before her legs gave out and unconsciousness swallowed her.

_Hi Rose, remember me? I'm sure you don't, you were pretty out of it. I expect you remember what we talked about though, don't you? You should. I'm sure you've been getting some strange feelings – they won't seem strange for much longer, you just need educating on real life, and this is what it is – an education. You need to learn, Rose, and if you don't learn fast enough, you'll be punished. It's a shame to punish someone like, you, but, needs must. And you must learn to behave and think more sensibly. You know what happens if you don't comply with my little rules; it happened last night, and don't tell me you don't remember – you've been remembering all day. You don't want to dream that again, do you? You don't want that to really happen? Because it will, if you don't listen, and learn. Don't forget._

Rose stirred slightly. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and the astrology lab swam into focus. Newtonia was still orbiting a large red sun in front of her. Carefully she swung her legs to the floor; her head throbbed uncomfortably with the movement, at the base of her skull, almost at the back of her mind. She shook her head to clear it, but a sharp pain shot down her spine, and she had to stifle a cry.

A strange sense of déjà vu descended on her again; she felt like this when she woke up. It felt like a lifetime ago now – how long had she been asleep for? Walking gingerly to the door, she started to hope that the Doctor had finished the upgrade, but stopped herself. Somehow, she knew she shouldn't be thinking like that. An instinct, gut-feeling, that if she continued along that train of thought, he head would ache all the more, and her body would feel as if it were on fire. Rose didn't question this instinct; it actually felt quite good if she thought about it. Like a long dormant knowledge that, now wakened, will improve life immensely.

So she didn't hope the Doctor had finished. Instead, she thought that if he _had_ finished, it would be nice because they could go and see the birth of her Sun. But if he hadn't (which, she thought, was almost certainly more likely) that wouldn't matter at all. There was, after all, no point in worrying about something that may not even occur.

**End Chapter VIII**


	10. Chapter IX

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill; they aren't mine, never will be, please don't sue.

**AN:** It's starting to move forward a little now! Thank you for bearing with me - I seem incapable of writing anything short, but it does start to get a little more interesting from here :-)(P.S. reviews are like chocolate, just not as fattening!)

**Chapter IX**

The Doctor stood atop a small stepladder, tweaking some wires that protruded from the wall of the control room and appeared outwardly to have no purpose whatsoever. They emitted a small spark, and the Doctor jerked back, a grin on his face. Then, he jumped off the ladder, folded it away, and stuck it in a closet that materialised nearby. As he turned back to the central column, he noticed Rose had returned, and was now sitting on the couch, observing him with a strangely detached expression. A shiver ran down his spine, and that small seed of unease grew into a tiny shoot.

"Rose! Didn't see you there. Where've you been?"

"The astronomy room. It's very interesting." He frowned at her polite, inexpressive response. He knew she'd never seen the astronomy room with its impressive 3-D simulation of the Universe, and had hoped for a slightly more enthusiastic response than that. He'd actually wanted to show it to her personally, to watch her face transform beautifully with awe in a way he was becoming addicted to ever since he had met her. He was beginning to live for the moments when Rose stepped out of the TARDIS, eager to face wherever and whenever they were, with that gorgeous half-mile of anticipation that he first saw before she stepped onto the Space Station. So for her to talk about the astronomy room, (in his opinion one of the most fantastic rooms on the ship) in a voice with less emotion than that of someone reading the football results out, was strange to say the least.

"You okay, Rose?" he asked, making his way over. He saw a flurry of emotions in her eyes, but they were taken over by a dark shadow that he didn't like at all.

"Yes thanks, I'm fine." Rose heard herself saying the words as if she were in a bubble. They were distant, muted, not her own. 'I'm not fine, I have a headache, why am I saying I'm fine?'

_Because you are. You are fine, Rose. He's just looking for an excuse to throw you out, take you home. Don't expect that his concern is genuine; assume it isn't. _

'But he looks concerned. He really looks worried.'

_He isn't. Remember the dream, Rose? I think you do. Did he look like a man in love then? And what did he do to you? You are seeing things you want to see, things that aren't there. You have so much hope that he'll notice you, and love you, that you're blinded to what he actually feels. Right now, he's hoping you are ill, so he can take you home and leave you there. Leave you behind, like you left your mum and Mickey and everyone else behind. _

The Doctor watched as the emotion drained from Rose's face, her eyes. Eyes that had captivated him from the beginning with their immense range of human emotions - her wonder, astonishment, fear, love, compassion. They were cold. Blank. He forehead creased in concentration that didn't register in her eyes. She appeared to be thinking to herself, and the Doctor could only imagine what the hell it was.

"Rose!" he snapped his fingers in front of her. No response. He shook her. Her eyes widened ever so slightly, then returned to blank staring. The seed that was a shoot was now growing rapidly, like the beanstalk in that human fairytale, the one with the giant. Either way, it was engulfing him with fear. He gave himself a mental shake at the absurdity of it – a lack of emotions shouldn't faze someone in this way, but it was. It was terrifying. She was almost catatonic now, sitting rigidly on the couch, staring through the Doctor. He was about to carry her to the medical room and perform as many tests as he could, when she stirred, and her eyes came back into focus.

"I think I'll go and lie down, Doctor," she said, pushing past him to stand up. He was momentarily paralysed by astonishment, and she had already gone a few yards before he caught hold of her arm. She jerked away as if she had been burned. To Rose, it felt like someone had injected pure fire into her veins.

"Rose, you're sick, I need to take you to the medical bay," he pleaded, shaken by the fact she rebuffed his attempt to take her hand – it was their source of comfort when situations were less than promising, or if the other was scared and didn't want to admit it out loud.

_Sure, he'll take you to the medical bay. Then declare you're too sick to travel with him; that you're a weak, puny human girl, and he'll take you home and leave you there, with all the people you left behind. Don't let him, Rose. Don't let him abandon you. _

"NO!" Rose wasn't sure if she was yelling at the Doctor, or the voice, or the feeling, but she yelled and tore down the corridor towards the centre of the TARDIS. The Doctor was right behind her, she could feel it, feel him catching up with her, to take her home.

And then, he wasn't. She rounded a corner, took a left, a right, another right, and opened the first door she saw. There was no-one behind her. Her head pounded in time with her heart, and she felt hot all over. But here it was cool. Blessedly cool. She was unsure as to how she managed to loose the Doctor, but had an inkling it was to do with the Voice. The one that she couldn't hear. Why couldn't she? Her headache remained, and the feeling of hopelessness, but had she finally gotten rid of the malevolent, slimy Voice?

_I'm he-e-ere! _

Rose balked, a mixture of disgust and relief evident on her face at hearing the Voice from deep within her.

_You didn't think I'd gone far did you? Can't get rid of me now Rose, I'm here for the rest of your life._

Rose began to relax; if she thought about it, the Voice was actually quite soothing, in a quietly insane kind of way. And if she thought about it some more, the Voice did speak truthfully, especially all that stuff about not hoping for too much. After all, how many times had she hoped the Doctor and her would manage to go somewhere without almost getting killed in the process. How many times had she hoped he would take her to a far off planet were nothing was wrong – where none of the inhabitants needed rescuing; where no-one was trying to blow it up; where it could just be her and the Doctor alone for a little while.

And that was where her own voice, faint and distant, like she was shouting to herself from the other side of the TARDIS, piped up. This was the voice that was adamant there was something wrong; that the Doctor wouldn't leave her no matter what; the one that told her to fight.

But that was the hard part – fighting. She had to strain to hear herself, and listening to the other Voice was so much easier.

_It is easy, Rose. To listen to me. To do as I say. To behave correctly. So stop fighting. Stay here for a while, then go out, find the Doctor, and behave correctly. If he throws you out, so be it. You'll live._

Rose nodded mutely; almost certain she'd heard the voice tailing off with 'and then again, maybe you won't'. She ignored it and set about fumbling for a light switch.

**End Chapter IX**


	11. Chapter X

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Nope, not mine. I'll let you know if and when they are.

**AN:** I haven't seen any other Doctor Who eps apart from this newest season, so if anything in this chapter is inaccurate, I apologize.

**Chapter X**

The Doctor raced along the corridors after Rose, who always seemed to be a turn or a corner ahead of him. He was silently begging his ship to make this easy for him, but she wasn't listening. This worried him even more – she always relocated doors and rooms if something was wrong and he was desperate.

The Doctor swore as he rounded another corner to be faced with yet another empty passage. There was a single door to his right; he tried it. No luck – it was locked.

Rose stumbled about in the pitch black room for a few minutes before her fingers touched a small button she thought may just be a light switch. 'I'm not hoping it is though, that would be stupid,' she thought, and was rewarded when the pressure at the base of her skull eased momentarily. Soft blue light flooded the room, revealing a long room, almost like a corridor, with stone flagstones and what looked like clay walls. It reminded Rose of the photos her mum had shown her of Spanish villas when she was saving up enough to go on holiday 'somewhere nice and sunny'. At sporadic intervals were piles of old books, new books, documents, journals, racks of assorted clothes and shoes, tools, odds and ends, pictures and even a few stuffed toys. It gave the air of a very old charity shop, or brick-a-brack store, except Rose was certain most of the items were alien. Peering at the closest book – which had a large colourful picture depicting a spiral shaped galaxy – the title looked to be a mixture of Egyptian hieroglyphs and Italian, and some of the tools surrounding it definitely looked strange.

Rose wandered the length of the room, the blue light casting an eerie glow on the items, and creating mysterious shadows within the stacks. Just when she was beginning to think the room went on forever, she came across a plinth, about four feet high, with a large glass dome enclosing its contents. She approached cautiously and peered inside.

The door slid open with a small whoosh. The Doctor pocketed his sonic screwdriver and stepped into the room he had tried hard to forget about. The area was bathed in a familiar blue light, but he couldn't see Rose anywhere. She must've gone farther in. He stared straight ahead, concentrating on the destination rather than the items around him. Occasionally, his gaze would wander to the side, and emotions swirled across his face: recollection, grief, pain. Then he'd return his eyes to the path, a steely determination in them, and continue onwards.

Rose gazed at the piece of rock, barely larger than a man's fist, in the glass case. It was a dull, light brown, unremarkable at first glance. But she kept her eyes on the display case. Shifting her body slightly to get a better look, she saw the blue lights catch something within the rock, some kind of mineral. They absorbed the blue light and shattered it into millions of fragments light, all the colors of the spectrum and more. The new lights projected onto Rose; her eyes, which were an empty brown, now shone as colors sparkled around the room. She gazed in awe at this tiny piece of rock, ignoring the incessant ache in her skull.

"Rose." Though the Doctor's voice was barely above a whisper, she jumped as if electrocuted. He reached out to her and it felt as though he were stretching across an abyss instead of little more than a foot, such as was the distance in her eyes. He took her hand, then dropped it immediately. She was on fire.

"Rose," he repeated, looking imploringly into her eyes that were still shining with color. "Please, come with me. You're sick, I need to look at you."

_He wants to get rid of you, Rose. Don't let him, Rose; don't let him take you away._

"What… what's that?" she asked shakily, trying to ignore both the Voice and the Doctor and focus on something, anything else. He followed her unsteady hand to the plinth. A wave of grief swept over him and he struggled to remain upright. He held onto Rose's jacket-clad arm, and though she flinched, she didn't bolt.

"It's… erm… a piece of rock." He waited for her sarcastic return, before despondently realising she wasn't going to reply; she was simply staring at the display with dimly determined eyes.

Determined. Not empty. The fear inside him that had threatened to engulf him recoiled a little at the sight of any kind of emotion within her, and a small amount of hope asserted itself in him.

"I found it at a kind of junk shop. I forget where it was exactly. I think the owner knew why I wanted it – I could see it in his eyes, a slow realisation, followed by sadness and sympathy. Didn't say anything outright though. He gave it to me as a gift – said he didn't have much use for it anyway, wanted it to go to a good cause." His eyes hardened with grief and remorseful disgust. "And what do I do with it? Stick it in a room at the back of my ship and avoid it. The largest piece of Gallifrey, of my home, and I hide it in some long forgotten room with everything else that reminds me of what I lost, who I lost, the companions that inevitably left me alone. I hid them all together." His voice cracked with anger and grief and unshed tears. He didn't dare look at Rose, instead keeping his gaze on the plinth. "I've come in here about three times; one was when I threw everything in here. This is the first time I've seen all this stuff since you came with me."

Rose listened to the Doctor. Her voice in her head was beginning to get louder, but the other Voice was still shouting at her, yelling to be heard.

_Listen to him, Rose! He said it himself: they're all gone. No-one's left. You're going that way too. You know that deep down, don't you? If anything seems too good to be true, it is. You should know all about that though, shouldn't you, Rose? Your first job – you thought that was brilliant; loads of money for a 14-year-old, wasn't it? And it was, for the first few weeks. Until the owner realised you'd do anything he wanted, take anything anywhere, and not just the papers. And you couldn't do anything but what he told you, because you needed the extra money, didn't you? Because your mum had lost herself another job. Something else you both thought was too good to be true. And speaking of losers; Jimmy. Your first real boyfriend. That was worth leaving school for, huh, Rose? The guy you loved, who 'loved' you back. Remind you of anyone, Rose? Just like you and the Doctor – fancy that! I wonder if this one will turn out the same way. Course it will. It always does – there's no hope for you and the Doctor, no hope that he'll suddenly love you, and no hope that he won't leave you on the first planet he finds. _

Rose moaned softly. Her body felt like it was on fire; her head was pounding with every breath she took. Every time she attempted to think 'But what about the time…' and answer the Voice back with a time something good had happened to her, a fresh burst of pain would radiate from the base of her skull and spread through her body like wildfire.

She tried not to think at all. Not listen to the Doctor, her voice, the Voice. She just stared, letting her eyes lose focus on what was in front of her – the Doctor – and chanted in her head: 'don't think, don't feel, don't think, don't feel.' It was her own private litany.

But it wasn't working. Not well enough. Her head felt like it was going to explode; as if someone were inside her head, hammering to be let out. And every so often, when her mind began to deviate from its mantra, waves of guilt and pain and hopelessness would wash over her. They only subsided if she listened to the Voice, which was telling her to calm down. It hurt to listen to it, but it was a different kind of pain, one that she was hard put to describe properly. But listening meant the other pain – the fire; the throbbing; the guilt – was beginning to ebb a little. Not much, but enough. It felt wrong to listen to the Voice. Deep inside of Rose, somewhere the Voice couldn't quite touch, she knew she shouldn't be giving in this easily. But this feeling was becoming greatly overridden by the fact that listening to the Voice gave her some relief, and that was more important at the moment.

It still hurt so much though. Despite standing up, and with her eyes open, Rose felt like she was slipping in and out of consciousness. The Doctor's voice faded in and out like a badly tuned radio during a storm, and she only caught snippets of what he was explaining to her.

"… all over the TARDIS… put them here… one room… lock them away… you came… no need for this room… can't leave…"

**End Chapter X**


	12. Chapter XI

**Title:** Manipulationof the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Roses are red, sonic screwdrivers are blue, Doctor Who belongs to the BBC, and not to Me!

**AN:** I attempted something resembling shippyness in this chapter - let me know how it works, so I can try to improve on upcoming chapters. Ta!

**Chapter XI**

The Doctor began to get more and more alarmed at Rose's behaviour. He kept talking to her in the hopes that he could elicit some kind of response, but there was nothing – she said nothing more. Occasionally brief glimmers of emotion would pass over her face – pain, sadness, fear, anger, guilt – but mostly these lasted a few seconds before being replaced with a blank stare that was unnerving him more than he'd care to admit.

He told her about the room. About how after the Time War he had gathered up anything – books, documents, pictures – that had any reference to Gallifrey. Things that were lying around all over the TARDIS, just as in most people's homes you'd find the odd book or paper left on the dining room table, or stuffed in the obscure place next to the microwave. He'd put them all here. There weren't as many items from Gallifrey itself, though he had emptied the library of the Gallifreyan literature he had taken with him if he tired of Earth novels and mechanical books. Most items made reference to his home planet in some way – a case study on time travelling cultures, or an analysis of a particular plant found only on Gallifrey, obscure things like that, that still hurt him to read or see. He told her unresponsive form that the rails of clothes and piles of shoes and accessories belonged to past companions. He'd put them in this one room with everything else, locked away all the things that reminded him he was now alone in the Universe, so he didn't keep coming across reminders day after day.

And then Rose came. And then there was no need for this room. No need for him to detest coming anywhere near here, because she wasn't going to leave; she'd told him so. It was Rose who told him it was better with two; Rose who said he was stuck with her.

To this day he was uncertain as to what made him return a second time to ask Rose to come with him. He wasn't in the habit of begging people for anything, didn't want to make people do something they really didn't. But Rose… He could see in her eyes, her dark, soulful eyes, that she had loved the thrill of adventure and danger. When they were running full pelt across that bridge he had glimpsed across at her as he took her hand – an action that even after a few hours felt as ordinary as if they had been doing it for years – and he saw her grinning, almost laughing. He had known then that she was too good for this world; Rose Tyler was destined for better things than working in a shop all day, and returning to a useless boyfriend, repeating this day after day, never seeing any of the fascinating wonders the Universe held.

And about ten seconds after dematerialising from in front of Rose and Mickey the Idiot, he reversed, re-materialised, opened the door and told her something that would change her life. He knew she desperately wanted to say 'yes' the first time, saw it in her body language and they way she leant subconsciously towards him for a fraction of a second, before being pulled back by the Idiot. He told himself as she ran towards him, that he did this for her – he knew she wanted it, and not asking her a second time would be cruel, and the Doctor was never deliberately cruel to anyone. But a smaller voice whispered that he wasn't being completely selfless, he wasn't doing it entirely to save her, but more to save him, because he wanted her to come with him, desperately.

He told her this – told her she couldn't leave him. Begged her to snap out of it.

He realised as he was talking monotonously to her how cowardly hiding everything away was, especially coming from him, a person who ran headlong into danger on a daily basis. He still hoped Rose would snap out of whatever it was that was causing her to be so lifeless, and tell him, in a voice that could only be hers, just how ridiculous he was being.

But even the Doctor's heartfelt admission failed to elicit the response he wished she would give. He half expected her to suddenly grin manically, and give him a big hug, and tell him he was so gullible sometimes, and to stop being so afraid. She didn't. Her eyes remained unfocused, and she was now swaying slightly on her feet, as if she was on the verge of fainting. She still felt far too hot to the touch, and whimpered intermittently in pain. His hearts felt like they were breaking each time he heard her.

Finally the Doctor couldn't take it any longer. She could yell and thrash about all she wanted; Rose was going to the Medical bay, and he was carrying her there whether she liked it or not. Since talking to her was looking to be a pointless exercise, he took a deep breath, and scooped her up in his arms.

She lay perfectly still. He was surprised at how much lighter she was than he thought. She felt so small and frail, and she wasn't fighting back, or doing much of anything. She just lay there impassively in his arms.

_Just let him take you there, Rose. But you aren't going to let him get away with it, are you? You can fight your way out of the Medical bay far easier than in here. You can use things in there to fight back, to stop him from hurting you before it happens again. _

So Rose lay still, the pain lessening further, her own voice fading to a distant whisper. Listening to the Voice was taking greater precedence over noticing the uneasy feeling growing inside her, out of reach of the Voice, and unfortunately Rose, at this time.

They reached the Medical bay without incident, the Doctor quickly navigating his way through the corridors of the TARDIS, who seemed to be co-operating once again. He lay Rose down on one of the beds, tenderly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, allowing his fingers to linger on her cheek, before turning to a cabinet of equipment.

_Now, Rose. Get him before he gets you!_

Rose blindly grabbed a hold of the first thing she lay her hands on – a small lamp on the bedside table – and flung it at the Doctor. It struck him squarely between the shoulder blades, and he gave a shout of surprised pain, hurriedly turning around to see Rose preparing to launch herself at him again. The Doctor reached her just as she was propelling herself from the bed. He crashed into her, driving her back down with a force that made him immensely glad they had landed on the bed. He pinned her down and fumbled in the bedside table for some soft restraints he hoped he had in there.

He was in luck. However trying to restrain a writhing young woman with one hand was no mean feat - her flailing arms caught him half a dozen times in the face and on his arms before he managed to tie them to the railing. He shifted his position on her legs so he could tie them down next, but his vision in his left eye was slightly blurred – she'd gotten one last, surprisingly hard punch in before he finished – which was hindering him somewhat.

Eventually the Doctor managed to restrain her, and he sat back on the bed, pain evident in his eyes. He lovingly smoothed her hair around her flushed face and took one of her hands as he adjusted the restraints so they wouldn't rub at her wrists. Rose's eyes were closed, so he couldn't give her a reassuring look as he usually did, and this upset him more that he would have liked. Instead, he contented himself with giving her small, hot hand a comforting squeeze, then leant close to her ear, lips brushing slightly on her cheek. His voice cracked with emotion as he whispered to her:

"I'm so sorry, Rose. I'm gonna get you better; don't worry. You're gonna be just fine, Rose, just fine." Even as he said it, he hoped and prayed it was true.

**End Chapter XI**


	13. Chapter XII

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** As usual, they do not belong to me.

**Chapter XII**

The fight had not worked to the Voice's advantage, but to Rose's, giving her a renewed vigour. Being forced to fight had woken her up the fight within her, and with it the feeling of unease, and the pain. She watched the Doctor struggling with her, watched as if she was in a dream, as she repeatedly hit him as he tried to help her. She heard the pain in his voice and tried to tell him she was sorry. But the words wouldn't come out – only a blinding flash of pain as she stopped listening to the Voice and questioned why she was doing this again.

"Doctor…" His head snapped up at her barely audible whisper. "It hurts, it's hurting me," she sobbed as the Voice screamed at her to stop talking. The Doctor laid a wonderfully cool hand against her forehead, then kissed her cheek softly. Then, with a distressed look on his face, reluctantly walked out of the room. His hearts broke as he heard Rose's cries as he made his way to the control room.

_I told you, Rose,_ the Voice said coldly, with a hint of smugness. _You were hoping he'd stay with you, find out what's 'wrong' with you. But he left, just as I told you he would. You should have listened to me, Rose, then you wouldn't be in this much pain._ Rose gave an anguished cry as a fresh burst of razor sharp pain radiated through her head. But at the same time, the feeling that something was wrong began to grow a little, still untouched by the claws of the Voice. It was telling her this shouldn't be happening, she shouldn't have her life dictated by some malicious Voice. She should think for herself, not roll over and accept these notions as the gospel truth, not be led around in life.

However, it was increasingly difficult to hear this feeling, let alone act on it, when she was in absolute agony, hoping that the pain would become so intense she would either pass out, or just die. The Voice would let her do neither of these things, at least not for the time being, so Rose had to content herself with sobbing wearily and pulling futilely at the restraints.

The Doctor landed the TARDIS in a small clearing in sector Darwin-Alpha. Thankfully, he had managed to materialise close to the headquarters of Darwin's Sector, home to the Director of this half of the planet, and hopefully, the answer to what was wrong with Rose.

He raced out of the TARDIS, not bothering to lock the door, and ran towards the sprawl of red bricked buildings in the distance, ignoring the curious glances of a couple of scientists inspecting a bright blue flower that grew out of a piece of black rock. A group of neat metal signposts told him the Director's office was in block A, in the East wing. He hardly paused at the main entrance – the sonic screwdriver was even working miraculously fast for him – and made his way down deserted corridor after deserted corridor. Just as he was beginning to wonder where on earth all the scientists were, an old man stepped out of a side-room and into the Doctor's path. The Doctor ground to a halt, breathing quickly and fumbling for his psychic paper. The old man glanced over him, his kind but authoritative eyes alighting briefly on his left eye where the Doctor could feel a nice bruise forming, before resting on the paper that he now held half-heartedly in his hand.

"Excuse me, but why do you have a piece of paper that says 'Help Rose' on it, Sir?" The Doctor quickly stuffed the paper back in his jacket. "And who exactly are you?" the man asked, not unkindly, but curiously. He shifted slightly and the Doctor was able to see the left side of his coat – it read Dr. Stephen Duquesne Area Director. He gave a small sigh of relief.

"I'm…" he hesitated. He wasn't sure if giving his name would cause a few problems on a planet of Doctors. Plus, he didn't want to give away too much information at this time. "I'm a friend of Dr. Greg Fox, in Einstein-Tango. I don't know whether you know him or not."

"Oh, yes, I know Greg. He's just finished a spot of research with my younger brother on the range of teleporters. I didn't realise he was giving a tour of Darwin Sector as well as his own," the Director said, raising his eyebrows slightly, inviting an explanation.

"Yes, about that. Rose and I – a friend of mine – were heading back to our ship after visiting Greg, when she was stung by something, a plant," the Doctor said trying to act natural, and far less worried than he was. When the Director paled slightly, however, panic rose in his chest, clutching his heart in an icy grip, and he struggled to remain calm.

"A large plant, almost a cross between a spider plant and a banana plant from Earth, with liana and dark green needles that are about six centimetres long? No visible fruit on it, and in a shady area of the rainforest?" The Director's voice remained composed, though there was no mistaking the note of urgency.

"Yes, just like that. I didn't think it was harmful to larger species; it targets smaller prey that it can digest more easily."

Dr. Duquesne was impressed at this man's knowledge of a species that had actually only been discovered by humans one year ago, on Chalem, one of the moons of Fornax, and had not yet been documented in any of the more widely published papers. He wanted to ask if he was a scientist himself, but priority took over; if this man's friend had indeed been stung by the Serpens – to use the nickname scientists had given it, due to the manner by which it attracts its prey – then that definitely took precedent. He opened the door he had just exited from, and held a hand out for the Doctor to enter.

"Please. I'd better tell you about that particular plant." The Doctor nodded mutely and walked into the bright office.

"I assume from your previous question that you know how the Serpens attracts its prey," Dr. Duquesne said, seating himself behind a large mahogany desk.

"Yes, it lures prey by disguising part of itself, as many organisms do, as something that would appear to have little or no threat. In this case: a large vine on the rainforest floor. If something moves across it, the vine tightens, like a reflex, long enough to sting whatever it's holding with a needle of venom. If the organism is small enough, the paralytic venom will have an affect on it, the vine will retract, and the plant will digest the organism. It doesn't work on larger prey because a: it won't paralyse it sufficiently, and b: it will be too large to digest." The Doctor finished this speech, spoken as if reciting from a textbook, and stopped pacing up and down the Director's office long enough to look him in the eye. He didn't particularly like what he saw. "I take it small prey isn't what it goes for nowadays," the Doctor said, before resuming pacing.

"No. Unfortunately, we had a case of cross contamination. Not completely uncommon in the lab, even here on Newtonia, but this was out in the field, and therefore went undetected for almost five days."

"What did? What the hell did that plant get contaminated with to make Rose act like… that?" the Doctor demanded angrily. Duquesne looked regretfully at the man pacing up and down his office floor like a caged lion, before pulling out an A4 notepad and a silver handheld computer. The few pages in the notebook were crumpled, the edges charred brown.

"Sit down, Mr…?"

"Tyler," the Doctor replied unconsciously, hardly even hearing his response.

"Please, sit down, Mr. Tyler, and I'll tell you what happened."

**End Chapter XII**


	14. Chapter XIII

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** As usual, they do not belong to me.

**AN: **Kind of a boring chapter here, I'm afraid folks; it gets better, honest! And thanks for the reviews!

Chapter XIII 

Dr. Carl Duquesne held the charred notebook in his hands as carefully as one would hold a newborn child. The handheld computer lay on the desk next to a photograph of a beautiful elderly woman, an equally good-looking middle-aged couple and three young children. He glanced briefly at the computer, then the photos, but his attention was more focused on the book. In his opinion, not enough scientists wrote their notes the old fashioned way – the good old paper and pen – and it felt far more personal to him to be holding these notes as opposed to the cold electronic device. He took a deep, controlled breath, and then began to relate his story to the nervous man sitting at his desk.

"One of my young scientists, a promising young man by the name of Dr. Robert – or Bobby, as he preferred – Ross, was conducting a private research project. We encourage this on Newtonia, particularly amongst younger scientists who haven't worked here as long as others and haven't published as much material; I also believe it helps them develop more as a scientist if the engage themselves in a project they find especially interesting personally. Dr. Ross was very interested in human behaviour, specifically manipulation, and the evolution of it over the millennia. He researched manipulation of humans on other humans, on animals, and on other races, throughout the history of human life. Even now, we know surprisingly little about the human characteristic of manipulation, and even with the numerous different races we as humans have encountered over the last few centuries as a result of space exploration, there are few species that come close to having the same levels of manipulation as humans do. It was a fascinating project, but, unfortunately, he kept his work closely guarded. There were two other scientists who worked with him, to help him carry out experiments and such like. All three went to the Academy together, and are good friends, which I imagine was one of the reasons he chose them – he knew they wouldn't reveal the details of his research to anyone." Dr. Duquesne laid the notebook down carefully, and pressed a couple of buttons on the side of the desk. From a minute silver disk set in one corner a hologram appeared. In it were two men and a woman, all late-twenties, all smiling.

"The one on your left is Bobby," Duquesne said, pointing him out to the Doctor. "Next to him is Dr Calleigh Lockhart, and on the end is Dr Max Duffy." The Doctor leaned forward now to look at the three young, jovial scientists. Bobby was smaller than Max, yet still looked tall and lanky, his strawberry blond hair sticking up stubbornly in all directions. He had kind blue eyes and a wide, slightly crooked grin, but was undoubtedly the 'pretty boy' sort that Rose liked. Max was the taller of the three, dark skinned and with his strong build looked like he could be a part-time rugby player. He and Calleigh leaned in close to each other, arms around each other, both with identically wide, handsome smiles. Max also had the 'pretty boy' look, he decided. But since the Doctor thought this of almost every male who had crossed Rose's path, it wasn't difficult to fit into that category.

Calleigh, he decided, was the sort of woman he could imagine Rose giving the Doctor a severe look for if he invited her on the TARDIS. She was very fair skinned with curly auburn hair framing her freckled face and laughing eyes. She was smaller than Bobby and Max by almost a foot, but in her deep blue eyes the Doctor saw a resolute determination, and he imagined she could hold an argument exceptionally well – probably a lot like Rose.

His heart ached at the thought of Rose, and how dramatically she had changed in a few short hours. As much as he appreciated the fact that background knowledge is essential to a story of scientific nature, he wished the Director would hurry up a little.

Duquesne watched Mr. Tyler studying the holographic photo, and saw the grief and fear settle on his face. He got rid of the photo and turned back to continue his story.

"This is his personal journal, where he documented everything relating to his research. We managed to salvage a little of it from the fire." He pointed to the A4 notebook, then the handheld computer. "He also transferred his notes to the computer. We recovered less from that, after he wiped the hard-drive. From Dr. Lockhart's accounts, which are rather sketchy due to the shock, and what we recovered, we have managed to ascertain that they were researching human DNA and particular areas of the brain that are thought to be involved with manipulation. Dr. Ross and his team were working on some kind of substance that was a replica of manipulation itself, to put it basically. Dr. Lockhart told us it was a very crude substance, in the very early stages of development; there were no limits, no boundaries or purpose as of yet. She said he didn't even want it to be used commercially; he was just curious about this particular human characteristic," Duquesne said sadly.

"What happened, Director?"

"Dr. Ross and Dr. Duffy were transporting the substance to a nearby testing facility when it came into contact with the Serpens. We're still unsure of the precise details surrounding the accident, and Duffy's in no state to talk at the moment."

"What about Dr. Ross? Why can't he tell you what happened?" the Doctor asked, though he knew what the answer would be.

"They were both stung; Bobby was obviously more affected by it since he's the smaller of the two."

"Director, what happened to him," the Doctor asked impatiently.

"He burned all his notes, deleted his files, then killed himself. Duffy is still in the infirmary, under suicide watch." The Doctor balked, sinking back into the chair.

"Killed himself? What, he was in so much pain?" His thoughts flew back to the TARDIS almost an hour earlier, and Rose's last words to him: "_…it's hurting me."_

"Not exactly, no. We think he was manipulated by whatever toxin was released by the Serpens. But because it was the prototype, and a crude one at that, and we haven't yet been able to talk to Dr. Duffy, that's all we know." The Director looked at the man sitting opposite him; his face was pale, his eyes anguished.

"I said I'd protect her," the Doctor whispered. He looked up, and the Director saw a fire burning in his eyes. "Do you have an antidote?" he said.

"Yes, it was administered to Dr. Duffy about four hours ago after I had my best scientists working non-stop for the last four days on it."

"And you're sure it works fine, no side effects?" Dr. Duquesne looked incredulous for an instant before collecting himself.

"Sir, this facility is the best in the Empire. The Director of Einstein and myself have personally interviewed every person on this planet, and I chose only the best doctors to work on the antidote. I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about."

"I'm sorry. Of course. I just… I really need the antidote. I've never seen Rose like that before." The Director gave a reassuring smile before rising.

"I'll take you to the Infirmary. If our research is accurate, then Dr. Duffy's system should be rid of the toxin and he will be waking very shortly, if not already." The Doctor nodded and followed the older man out of the office. He allowed a glimmer of hope to penetrate the fear inside of him as he headed towards the cure for Rose.

_Just hold on a little longer, Rose. Please._

End Chapter XIII 


	15. Chapter XIV

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** As usual, they do not belong to me.

**Chapter XIV**

Knives. Needles. Red-hot pokers. Pneumatic drills.

Rose felt as though all these things and more were torturing her. Her body burned. Not just her skin, but _inside._ Her blood felt like it was boiling through her veins. The Voice constantly whispered what she should be thinking about, what was wrong with her and humanity, why the Doctor left her, and each time Rose fought against it, whenever she deviated from the Voice's way of thinking in the most insignificant way, bolts of pain shot down her spine from the base of her skull. Rose was convinced she was being kept alive by the sheer cruelty of the Voice, just so it could continue tormenting her relentlessly.

Not long after the Doctor had left her – in her mind, to find a way of saving her, in the Voice's louder and more painful opinion, because that's what always happens – Rose discovered the part of her as yet untouched by the poisonous Voice. The part that told her this was very wrong; the part that told her to keep fighting. She realised that as long as she continued to listen to this part of her that for some reason as yet unknown was not overwhelmed by the Voice, she could fight back. And if she fought back, the pain she felt coursing through her body meant that she could still feel; that she was still real; that she was alive.

_You were doing so well, Rose. Why are you doing this to yourself now? He's left you – just like I told you he would. And it's only this painful for you because you insist on hoping that he's going to come back. We talked about this. You shouldn't hope for unrealistic things; it causes pain, like you're in now. But if you listen to me, I'll stop the pain, so you think properly, and get us out of here, and back to your pointless little existence. _

"NO!" Rose shouted, her voice tailing off into anguished cries as more pain flooded her body. "He's gonna save me," she whimpered into the tear soaked pillow.

_Think about it, Rose. You can think, can't you?_ The Voice asked derisively. _Why would he? When you're so far gone, why would he want to save you, when he can just as easily leave you to it, and find someone better, someone untainted, someone braver? You did it yourself, when you abandoned Mickey for the Doctor, not once, but twice. Turned your back on someone you thought you loved, for someone you thought loved you. The Doctor hasn't known you as long as you knew Mickey – why should he save you, keep you around? _

"It's not the same and you know it! The Doctor's different, and he always saves me!" Rose screamed, shaking her head to rid herself of the malicious Voice who was now laughing cruelly, trying in vain to rip her hands free from the restraints. "Leave me alone! Shut up, just shut the hell up!" Her voice reached fever pitch, her throat hurt with screaming, and right then she could have easily given up, ignored the small piece of her telling her to fight, ignored the Voice, and wished for a darkness to swallow her up.

The Voice, as always, was happy to oblige. For the second time in a day, Rose felt a fatigue engulf her that seemed greater than the Universe. And she was happy to allow herself to be consumed by the darkness.

And as Rose went down, inside of her, a tiny part went down still shouting to be heard.

* * *

The Doctor and the Director were just entering the observation room adjoining the room where Dr. Max Duffy was currently being held when the Doctor stopped in his tracks, a strange expression on his face, a mixture of confusion and panic.

"Mr. Tyler? Are you okay?"

_Doctor!_

She was shouting for him, he could hear it clear as cut crystal, only the sound didn't register through his ears; it was inside him, inside his head. The shout echoed, and as the sound diminished the fear within him grew louder. She was yelling his name; he could hear the intense agony in just that one word, and for a moment he felt the hope drain out from him, as fear tightened its already hard, icy hold around his hearts. But the Doctor gave himself a shake and forced himself to concentrate on the here and now – yes, Rose was very ill, more likely than not in danger, but hearing someone inside his head shouting with such clarity had not happened to him before. Not with a human anyhow. And that, he decided steadfastly, meant that Rose was still strong, still alive. It also meant something else if he could hear her, but he wasn't going to think about that option just now, only concentrate on getting back to her as quickly as possible.

Dr. Duquesne watched emotions fly across Mr. Tyler's face, and saw the steely determination settle in his clear blue eyes that for some reason looked far too old for such a younger looking man. Younger than himself anyhow, he thought with a wry chuckle. Not for the first time since he had met this mysterious stranger, Stephen Duquesne felt that he wasn't being told the entire truth about what this man and his friend – who evidently meant a great deal to him – were doing here. And not for the first time he pushed the feeling aside – well, for the time being at least.

"Mr. Tyler?" The Director's kind yet authoritative voice finally penetrated the Doctor's thoughts, and he glanced up. "Are you okay?" he repeated.

"I heard her. Yelling my name." His face and voice held a note of confusion and distress, although the determination had not left his eyes.

"Your friend? You could hear her?"

"Yes. Never happened before, especially not with…" he almost said 'with humans' but caught himself in time. He didn't want to be answering questions when he should be helping Rose. "Not even with Rose," he finished. The Director gave him a look that was unreadable, then smiled sympathetically.

"Calleigh experienced something like that – she thought she heard Max crying for help. She isn't completely sure, however, she's still a little shocked; the three of them were close, but her and Max were especially so. I imagine that's why you heard your friend." The Doctor nodded, thinking the Director was only half right.

**End Chapter XIV **


	16. Chapter XV

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who was really my idea that the BBC stole from me years ago, and they can expect a lawsuit anytime. And if you believe that, you'll know that if you say gullible slowly it sounds like banana.

**Chapter XV**

Darkness. Complete, utter blackness, darker than the deepest parts of Space. Neither light nor sound could penetrate this vacuum.

For a moment, Rose believed her prayers had been answered and she had finally been put out of her misery. No more excruciating pain, no more merciless, malicious Voice to torment her. She felt calmer than she thought she would do – not that she made a habit of wondering what she'd think if she were to die. But she thought she might feel the slightest bit upset, especially as she never even saw the Doctor or her mum before it happened.

'Maybe I'm not dead. Maybe I'm just asleep, and this is some weird dream.'

_Give the girl a medal! _

Although Rose still couldn't see or feel anything – it seemed to be that she merely existed – she imagined her face would look a picture just now. She could just envisage her face contorted with horror and disgust, like the characters in the horror movies she sometimes made Mickey watch with her. Not because they scared her, no. It was almost an experiment to her, watching horror movies, seeing what could scare her most. More often than not, very little managed to scare her properly, sometimes they failed to make her even jump. There were parts that caused her to screw her face up in disgust, obviously, but it wasn't a deep disgust, it was on the surface, there one moment, gone the next. After all, it was on a TV screen, not in front of her. She persuaded Mickey to watch them with her to see the reactions of others, see how long another person hid behind a cushion; see how sickened they were by someone being decapitated. Again, like an experiment. She also liked to think it was in preparation. For what, she didn't know. Not at the time.

But at this time, with all those hours of horror-movie-watching behind her, she could very easily imagine the protagonist's face after hearing the dreaded Voice again. This link to something human, something she was able to relate to, prevented her from feeling completely terrified and forced her to think, but the shock was still there.

_You're absolutely correct, Rose. You are asleep. In a fashion. I decided you could be better… managed, shall we say, if you were unconscious – you were doing an awful lot of thrashing about, you might've hurt yourself. _

The flippant tone suggested to Rose that this Voice didn't give a damn one way or another whether Rose hurt herself or not, but cared more that she was no longer listening to it, and 'behaving'.

_I'm doing this for your own good, whether you believe it or not, Rose. I'm just trying to make you see what's really in front of you, because living in denial, in hope, in expectation, is not a healthy way to live, Rose. _

'I'm not listening to you. I am waiting for the Doctor to get back with the cure to get rid of you!' Rose thought angrily. At least there was no pain here – she could yell and contradict the Voice all she wanted and not have to worry that it felt like she was dying.

The Voice sighed patronisingly. _Rose. How can you be sure he is? And don't tell me he's done it before. Maybe he did. But did he come back for you specifically each time? Or were most of those times occasions when it was his job to rescue someone in danger, and you happened to be that person? _

A sick feeling crept into Rose – and not just because the Voice described what the Doctor did as a job – but it was one that she dismissed immediately. Sure, a couple of times he'd rescued her when he didn't realise it was her. But how many times had he come back for her? She could think of half a dozen off the top of her head straight away.

_And how do you know he hasn't gotten sick of you always needing rescuing, always being in trouble and making life so much more difficult for him? So much so that he has just left. _

'This is his ship, his home. He wouldn't leave. That's the stupidest thing you've said so far,' Rose thought back, finally thinking she was getting somewhere.

_I never said he left the ship, did I? He left you in the Medical Room, went to the control room, and as we speak is looking for somewhere to leave you. Maybe it'll be London, maybe it won't be. And besides, this ship's endless – he could live here and never have to see you again, just lock you up in a room and leave you there. _

'And I told you, he wouldn't do that. It isn't like the Doctor to just abandon someone.'

_Isn't it? You've never seen him let someone go, let someone die?_

She faltered. They were different circumstances. He had to do it, both times. Besides, he had picked her, the best. And she was still alive, she was still here.

_Maybe he regrets it. Who knows what goes on behind that mask. What he thinks. _

'I'm not listening to you anymore.'

_I think you are, Rose. You're going to listen to me for as long as I like._

'And if I refuse?'

_You'll find out when I wake you up, won't you? Oh, you may feel perfectly fine right now, but, then again, I'm sure most coma patients do. And your mind is detached from your body in a way, but when I return you… you'll wish you had listened to me, Rose Tyler. You'll wish you used your last chance to listen to the truth, instead of wasting it, hoping the Doctor will return for you. Because he won't. And I control you now. You're mine._

**End Chapter XV**


	17. Chapter XVI

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-)

**AN:** Sorry I haven't updated for a while – work is mind numbingly boring but exhausting, so here's two chapters to make up for it. Questions will be answered very soon! Also, if anythingdetails are a little out in this chapterI apologize - I'm not completely sure how psychic paperworks, but lets pretend just for this chapter it does what i say it can. Let me know ifI've got anything wrongso I remember for next time. Ta.

**Chapter XVI**

"At last – good news," Dr. Duquesne said, pointing through a one-way mirror to a white sterile room. Sitting up on a cot was a man the Doctor recognised as Dr. Max Duffy. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed in purple so dark it looked as though he'd gone five rounds with a heavyweight champion, and he had lost weight since the picture that the Doctor saw had been taken. But other than that, he looked okay to the Doctor. As if he were almost recovered from an illness.

"I assume that is a marked improvement than the last few days?" the Doctor asked, turning to the Director. He didn't even need to reply. With simply looking at the scientist in the other room, the Director looked as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. His entire upper body – which the Doctor hadn't even realised was so tense – visibly relaxed and his eyes brightened up. All in all, he actually appeared younger. And he hadn't spoken to any other doctors or the patient yet. The Doctor supposed that Dr. Duffy's illness, and the circumstances surrounding it, had shaken the Director more than anything else had for a long time.

"Yesterday afternoon when I came to see how he was doing with the Sector Manager Dr. Carl Montgomery, he sounded like a scared little boy in terrible pain. He was sobbing and begging someone to kill him. I honestly didn't think he had much longer. The first two days he spent fighting against the restraints, and yelling pretty much incoherently to the Doctors and Nurses, and to Calleigh. It was terrible to watch, but he was fighting, and that gave us hope. But yesterday he spent most of the time slipping in and out of an unconsciousness so deep it was practically a coma, and sobbing, as if he had just given up."

"Can I speak to him, please?" The Doctor asked, looking at the young doctor instead of the Director.

"I'll ask him if he's up to it, but I'm sure it'll be okay for a moment." Dr. Duquesne wondered for a second why Mr. Tyler wanted to speak to him. All he really needed was the antidote – though he supposed he wanted to make completely certain there were no side effects or anything before giving it to his friend. It was only natural.

Dr. Max Duffy was sitting on the side of the cot, a mixture of relief, bewilderment and exhaustion on his wan face. He smiled slightly at the sight of the Director entering his room, though that smile turned inquisitive at the sight of the Doctor.

"Director," he nodded respectfully to the older man, turning to the Doctor. "Sir. Are you another Doctor?"

"I'm a friend of a Dr. Fox's, from Einstein Sector," the Doctor said evasively. The Director made a mental note of this.

"Max; how are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks. It's strange, I keep expecting to hear it again, telling me it was just a joke, and it isn't really gone," he said, trailing off and staring into space. Neither the Director nor the Doctor knew what he was talking about, but Duquesne put a fatherly hand on Duffy's shoulder.

"Maybe we should leave you to rest a little more, Max. You still look tired."

"Like hell, you mean," Duffy said with a small laugh. The Director smiled. "No, I've been feeling more and more like myself for the past hour or so, I think it'll just take a little adjusting to, that's all."

The Doctor stepped forward as though he were going to ask a question but the Director stopped him.

"Mr. Tyler, a moment, if you please." He nodded towards the open door. The Doctor paused, as if uncertain whether or not to follow, before allowing himself to be led outside.

"Mr. Tyler, I have been feeling for some time that you aren't telling me the whole truth about who you are and what you are doing here. Under normal circumstances my immediate assumption would be that you are a reporter; however I am certain that all the worries you expressed about your friend were genuine, not an act. You say you know Dr. Fox, which I am also inclined to believe, but I don't believe that he was taking you on a tour around an area of rainforest that has been sectioned off under Code Yellow instructions for the last four days, and Code Red since yesterday afternoon." The Doctor sighed, finally agreeing with himself that honesty – as far as he could be honest without causing too much trouble – would be best. Pulling his psychic paper out, praying that it would work, he put on his best 'I'm in authority – really' face.

"I'm the Doctor, I'm from a research base on Fornax, studying volcanic life-forms. I am a friend of Dr. Greg Fox, and Rose, my assistant, and myself were visiting him yesterday morning. We were heading back to our ship – which has a habit of not staying where I parked it at the moment, small malfunction, I intend to fix it right up soon as I get back – when she was stung. She's in the Medical Bay on our ship at the moment, restrained because she tried to attack me, and right now I am more than a little concerned about the fact that I left her alone, and talking to your Dr. Duffy would help me immensely, as would the antidote, which I hope you will be able to give me." He took a deep breath and watched the Director scrutinising the psychic paper, and worried about what would happen to Rose if the psychic paper hadn't fully worked, or if the Director didn't believe his story.

Dr. Duquesne studied the man in front of him. The wallet he held up had an identity card that he assumed were the kind used on Fornax. It showed a photo of the man in front of him, along with his name – Dr. T. Tyler – expiration date of the I.D., and a clearance code. So he certainly was who he said he was. Though there was still the question of why held up a piece of paper with the words 'Help Rose' on it when they met as opposed to his I.D., but he immediately put that down to shock or stress the minute the thought entered his mind. And he had explained why they were in an area that was cordoned off, though under normal circumstances, using a ship that doesn't stay where it's parked would be violating a few rules and result in a prison sentence. However, he thought, these were not normal circumstances, and he supposed he could overlook it just this once.

"Ok, Dr. Tyler. Thank you. I can appreciate the stress you must be under, so I'll put your carelessness down to that, and I never even heard you say your ship violates Section 4 Paragraph 135, stating the condition that all craft that land on this planet should be in." The Doctor nodded gratefully at the Director. "I think Max should be ready to tell us what happened now," he said, holding the door open once more.

"Yes sir," the Doctor said, walking into the room, hoping that now, he might finally find out what was wrong with Rose.

**End Chapter XVI**


	18. Chapter XVII

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-)

**Chapter XVII**

Rose woke to the worst pain of her life. In addition to the construction company currently working away inside her head, and the bursts of fire down her spine, her entire body ached.

Not the kind of ache that comes with a bad cold, or the flu. No; this was deep insider her, a dull, throbbing, ever-present ache that touched every part of her. Rose was acutely aware of every cell in her body; aware that with every breath the ache swelled within her. No matter how she squirmed in the restraints she could still feel it.

_I warned you, Rose. I warned you not to resist me. You knew that this would happen – you brought it on yourself,_ the Voice said regretfully, but with an underlying glee that sickened Rose.

"Fuck you!" Rose screamed, and was rewarded with a fresh burst of pain that touched every nerve ending in her body with fiery fingers.

_Now that's not very nice, is it Rose? I tried to help you see the error of your ways, and what do I get for my troubles? A crude curse. No wonder the Doctor left you here to rot, if that's the most intelligent language you can come up with._

"I'm not listening to you," she cried, not angrily this time, more resigned. She was fighting a losing battle, and a painful one at that. She wanted to fight, she really did, but although her voice, and the feeling deep inside her were still alive, her body couldn't take much more. She didn't want to listen to the Voice, but unless the Doctor returned soon – and he was going to, she remained resolute about that – she would have to give in for a little while. "I'm not listening," she said, though it was more of a whimper this time.

_There's no-one else to listen to though, so it looks like you're stuck with me. Believe me, I'd prefer someone more cooperative, but we have to work with what we've got, don't we Rose?_ The Voice continued in an infuriatingly conversational tone.

Another fresh burst of pain exploded in Rose's body, and black butterflies flittered across her vision. She writhed and squirmed and twisted, but the restraints refused to budge, and the pain remained. She tried bringing her arms up to her head, attempting, in desperation, to claw out the poisonous entity inside her brain, but they were no-where near close enough.

She clasped her fists against the pain that refused to abate, trying not to scream, and not noticing her nails digging into her palms, creating moon shaped bruises and cuts. Neither did she notice the spots of blood dripping from her clenched fists onto the tousled white bed sheet.

As the Voice began giggling, she gave up on silence – after all, who would hear her? – clenched her fists even tighter, and screamed. The Voice laughed.

* * *

Dr. Duquesne was seated at a chair next to Max Duffy's cot, where the latter perched on the end, glass of water in a hand that quivered every so often. The Doctor leant against the wall nearest the bed, arms folded, breathing even. At first he had thought about sitting in the other vacant chair, but as he pulled it up beside the Director he noticed the angry red scratches at the sides of Duffy's face, and cuts up and down his arms that still looked fresh and sore. The cold fear around his hearts tightened again, and he prayed that he had sufficiently restrained Rose's wrists and ankles to the cot. He was beginning to wish he hadn't left her alone at all, wished he had managed to sedate her or something so that he could have brought her here with him. She had been alone in the TARDIS for almost two hours, and although he tried not to allow his mind to wander over all the possibilities at the moment, seeing what Max had done to himself invited new and dreadful scenarios to stroll through his mind. He drowned these thoughts out by repeating over and over in his head: 'I'm coming back, Rose,' hoping she was somehow able to hear it and hold on a little while longer.

Max began talking then, his voice slightly hoarse from shouting, and the Doctor ceased his silent litany to listen.

"It was… God, eight days ago now. Bobby and I were heading out to the smallest lab in Darwin-Romeo – Director, do you have a map?" Duquesne nodded and pulled out a small hand-held computer, similar to the one the Doctor saw in his office, about the size of A6 paper and not much thicker. It projected an aerial map in front of the three men and the Doctor leaned in closer. The map had magnified an area of the rainforest containing two clearings about a mile apart. The left one was the larger of the two, around two or three acres, containing a sprawl of buildings that the map identified as Lab 1. A green cross nearby marked a teleporter. The second clearing was only about half an acre, and contained only a teleporter. The Doctor realised that the TARDIS had landed almost exactly between the two clearings, remarkably close to a bright red, ominous looking cross.

"I'm so sorry, Rose," he whispered as the map vanished and Max resumed talking.

"The teleporter next to the Lab was being repaired, so we teleported to the clearing on the right, intending to walk…"

"_They would be conducting repairs on the one damn teleporter we wanted to use, wouldn't they?"_

"_Ah, chill, Max, little exercise never killed anyone. You still got your samples?"_

"_No, I decided to let the monkey I just saw carry them for me, they were a little heavy!" he said sarcastically. "Course I've got them." Bobby just laughed._

"_Ow! Whoa! Son of a bitch! The plant grabbed me!" Bobby cried indignantly, only just avoiding sprawling on the ground. Now Max laughed._

"_Should watch your feet, you big, lanky git."_

"_Y'know you are bigger than me."_

"_Yeah, but I'm all muscle baby! You're just skin and bones!" he retorted good-naturedly._

"_Yeah, yeah," Bobby replied. He looked down at the fabric case he was carrying. "Ha! Didn't even drop anything," he said to himself as he jogged to catch up with Max. _

"It wasn't until the next morning with the final test that we realised one vial was missing – he must've dropped it after all when the plant tripped him. The vials are tiny, so it might've worked its way loose or something. We spent most of that day retracing our steps and searching for it. But the only trace we managed to detect with the computers came from the plant itself. Figuring it had been digested we took a cutting to return to the lab for testing. That particular sample dropped was a mixture of human DNA and a certain hormone, and it shouldn't have been harmful, or affected the plant, even when ingested by another organism. We actually thought we'd killed the plant, since the reading was so much lower than we anticipated, and it was wilting right in front of us. We should have alerted you, Sir, put the area on Yellow Alert. As it was, we wanted to make absolutely certain the plant had indeed ingested the substance, and that it was dying. It couldn't spread in any way, so we assumed – incorrectly – that it'd be safe to leave it. It wasn't until we returned to the Lab that we noticed we'd been stung." The young doctor bowed his head in shame, realising as he told his story the magnitude of the mistake. The Director watched him sadly. He understood why the two young doctors had waited to inform the authorities to destroy it – unnecessary intervention when the full details were unknown could be potentially just as dangerous as leaving it, and he understood why they assumed it couldn't pose a threat. Unfortunately, the Serpens was still being tested on, as some characteristics were unknown even now, though they weren't to know this. The Director had already decided that this young man had been punished enough to last two lifetimes, and Duquesne couldn't bring himself to reprimand him further.

"The results came soon after; it had been ingested all right." Max Duffy looked up at the two men, his face ashen and awash with guilt and fear. "The plant – the Serpens – its DNA was mutating."

**End Chapter XVII**


	19. Chapter XVIII

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-)

**AN:** Sorry I've been a while updating – work sucks big time. Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews!

**Chapter XVIII**

She sensed her pain, her fear, her guilt and hopelessness. She also sensed the smaller rays of hope that he would return, and sensed how she clung onto anything human, anything she could relate to, anything that was him.

At the same time She sensed his fear, his guilt, his desperation, and something else she hadn't known him to feel for another person, especially a human, for a long, long time. She heard him trying to talk to her, to tell her he was coming back for her, and She could hear her begging for him to return. Only once had he heard her, and she hadn't managed to hear him through the pain. She tried to make her hear now, tried to allow his thoughts to enter hers, so she wouldn't give up. She could sense that, were it not for the fact she still held onto the tiny fragment of hope the he would return to her, she would give up. Allow the poison to take over her, allow herself to fall into an eternal slumber that his thoughts wouldn't penetrate.

And She wasn't about to let that happen. Not this TARDIS.

* * *

Rose's breathing was shallow and rapid, her chest rising and falling quickly in time with her heart that beat loudly in her ears, which in turn was in time with the throbbing pain flowing through her body. For the time being the Voice had fallen silent, after explaining in detail just why the Doctor shouldn't return for Rose, and showing Rose exactly how heartless she was leaving behind her family and friends. It was just Rose and the pain.

'_I'm coming, Rose.'_

Rose jerked her head upright, causing a fresh wave of pain to radiate through her head, and also through her wrists where she pulled on the restraints. She didn't notice it. Her eyes snapped open, and she was momentarily blinded by the harsh white light of the Med bay.

"Doctor?" she said, eyes restlessly searching the room for the source of the Doctor's voice.

'_I'm coming, Rose.'_

There it was again, though this time, Rose heard it more clearly, without the haze of pain, and she was certain it was _inside_ her head, almost in the same place she had felt the strange feeling that told her to fight, that listening to this evil Voice was wrong.

"I knew it," she whispered to herself, laying her head back on the pillow as the Voice began talking again. She tuned out though now, accepting the pain, because she had heard the Doctor inside of her, felt his hope and determination, and something else. Another feeling, that made butterflies dance again, not in front of her eyes this time, but in her chest and stomach, like when he took her hand, or held her, or looked at her with intense blue eyes that held so many different emotions so much of the time, and occasionally only had room for one. The one that caused them to darken mysteriously, and stare so intensely at her that it seemed he was looking into her soul.

Rose closed her eyes against the pain, against the glaring lights, and watched the Doctor materialising behind her eyes. She could see him speaking the words now as well as hear him in her head, and this helped her to tune out the Voice, screaming at her to listen, and her own voice, simply screaming.

* * *

Dr. Max Duffy took a long drink of water and placed the glass on the floor beside his feet. The Director waited patiently for him to continue, the Doctor waited less patiently, but tried not to show it. He remained leaning against the wall, though he was noticeably tenser than when Duffy began relating events, and not just because of the nature of what he had been telling the two men. In the last few minutes, whilst Duffy was taking a small break, the Doctor became aware of something inside his head, some kind of sound. Although it seemed like nothing at first, it had grown into whispering and a feeling of relief. They were still growing, and now the Doctor could hear Rose, telling him she knew he would come back, and to hurry. The relief was there, too, a feeling so great it threatened to overpower him. Except that for a few seconds every minute or so, pain would invade this connection with Rose, and although they lasted but a second or two each time, to the Doctor they felt like a lifetime, as his link to her voice, that was so close he swore she was standing beside him, came under threat.

Neither Dr. Duquesne nor Dr. Duffy noticed the change in the man, and Max began to speak again, forcing the Doctor to pay attention to something other than Rose's voice in his head.

"We ran more tests on the Serpens as soon as we found out the DNA was mutating, and intended to inform you immediately, Director…"

"_Jesus, Max, have you seen this? Parts of the Serpen's DNA are human, and it's actually mutating right now, it's like it's evolving – look." Bobby pushed a computer screen in front of Max, who studied it with worried eyes._

"_I'm gonna inform the Director, Bobby, we need to get that thing into quarantine."_

"_Yeah, and what about us? We were stung by that thing, remember?"_

"_Well then, we'll test our blood as well, though I don't know what it could do to us since we're human already."_

"_I know, but just to be on the safe side, yeah? I don't feel too hot to be honest, I wanna make sure I'm not mutating into something else."_

"_Yeah, right, like Bobby: the Plant Man – watch out, he'll trip you on his vines!"_

"_I'm serious, Max. Look, let me test us both, then we can inform the Director, okay? Humor me." Max nodded and put his finger onto a small slide near a computer. A tiny needle punctured the skin, drawing the blood inside to be tested. Bobby then repeated this process with his own finger._

"_Okay, we'll give it five minutes – I'm gonna get a drink, you want one?" Bobby shook his head. _

"_Nah, I'm exhausted, I'm gonna take a power nap I think. Wake me up if the results are interesting." Max nodded and walked out of the room as Bobby collapsed onto a couch, his face flushed and a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead._

"When I got back he was out of it. I checked the results and they showed a slight elevation of the hormone we were working with and an increase in our body temps, though both were more pronounced in Bobby. Still, it was nothing that would have concerned me – we were overworked and overtired, which would easily have explained the temperature and fatigue, and hormones fluctuate from time to time." Max sighed deeply, running a shaky hand over his face. "I should've woken him, asked his opinion. I should've informed you. But I was just so tired. It was strange, how quickly it came over me. I was only going to rest for half an hour, and then call you. But something inside of me, inside my head, told me I needed to sleep, and now. So I did."

The Doctor watched as Duffy's eyes grew unfocused, and his shoulders slumped forwards. He remembered back to when Rose had entered the TARDIS, how immensely tired she had seemed. He remembered the temperature, and how he put it down to a reaction. A reaction! Of course it was – she was being poisoned! He couldn't believe his stupidity. And he had ignored the voice that reminded him it was a scientific base after all. Just so he didn't annoy her, so she didn't think he was fussing over her. He could kick himself – he should be kicking himself – for letting this happen to Rose.

Not for a moment while he was mentally berating himself, did he mentally yell at the young doctor sitting in front of him – it didn't even occur to him at that point. As he walked into the room, as he heard the grief and sorrow in the man's voice when he began telling them what happened, he decided that he'd suffered enough – he didn't need some distressed alien telling him he was irresponsible, he was stupid – he'd done that himself. Now the Doctor just felt sorry for him, for what he'd have to live through now. He knew that that would be the worst kind of punishment anyone could receive.

**End Chapter XVIII**


	20. Chapter XIX

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-)

**AN:** Here's another chapter in case I don't update for another few days. We're nearly at the end! Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews!

**Chapter XIX**

Max Duffy lowered himself to the floor and stood on shaky legs before gingerly walking around the small room. Suddenly, he didn't want to talk anymore; didn't want to tell the Director and this new edgy doctor about the Voice that had plagued his waking moments and turned his dreams into nightmares for the past five days. To be perfectly honest, he still couldn't believe he was rid of it; any moment he expected to hear the whispering Voice in his head, telling him how much of a failure he was, and feel the burning pain throughout his body. And telling these people may just initiate the whole process again.

The Doctor watched the young man walk deliberately around the room, and got more and more agitated with every passing second. He saw him frowning to himself, and his face pale, before he glanced upwards and saw the Doctor observing him with a penetrating glare.

"What happened to you, Max?" he asked, more gently than Duffy would have imagined. He shook his head obstinately, fearfully. "Max, whatever happened to you, whatever that plant did to you, it's happening to my friend. To Rose Tyler. She's 19 years old, Max. She's in my care but I can't take care of her, because I don't know what the hell is wrong with her." The Doctor never broke eye contact with Duffy throughout this speech, and although the younger doctor looked decidedly uncomfortable and even guiltier at the knowledge another person, an innocent young women was suffering, he never looked away. For a minute – one of the longest in the Doctor's life – Max Duffy stood still in the isolated room, trembling slightly, involved in a fearsome internal battle over whether or not to reveal what kind of an ordeal he had been through. The aggrieved look on this new doctor's face couldn't silence him for much longer, and he couldn't stand by debating whether his character was strong enough to face the prospect of hearing the Voice again when another innocent person lay in agony being tormented by the Voice.

"There was… this Voice," he began in a hoarse whisper that betrayed his dread. "I didn't really notice it until after I woke up. Y'know, after we'd gotten back. Before then, I'd put it down to exhaustion – we'd worked non-stop for nearly two days. But there was this feeling." Max sat back down on the cot now, his eyes staring straight ahead as if looking directly into the past, his forehead creased in concentration as he attempted to remember the feeling, or try to put it into words.

"It was as if I didn't have anything to be hopeful for. As if I couldn't really remember how to feel hope any more, what it was. And when I did try to remember, anytime I thought anything that the Voice decided was associated with hope, I felt guilty. So terribly guilty." His eyes clouded over then and his face paled as he remembered further details. "And the pain. God, I've never felt anything like it in my life – it consumed me, my whole body." His voice was laced with an anguish that was mirrored in both the Director and the Doctor's face, for two different reasons. "Except," he continued, almost thoughtfully, "except when I listened. Listening was good – there was no pain, no cruel, hurtful comments. I shouldn't have listened as much as I did. But I couldn't help it, the pain…" He trailed off, glanced up and meeting the Doctor's gaze. Scared, tired brown eyes met with sympathetic, pained and angry blue ones. The Doctor said nothing, and the Director remained in his seat, allowing Duffy to take his time.

"Bobby fared worst. I could see it in his eyes – they were blank. Nothing. That was the scariest thing – he's so energetic, excited about something. Maybe he received a higher does, or it's because he's smaller than me. I don't know. But I know he wasn't fighting it like I was – he wasn't in as much pain. Even at the end, I don't think he felt anything. Seems like a lifetime ago. And I can't really remember Calleigh. She was there, I know, but it's kind of fuzzy. That's why she's in shock though, isn't it, Director? She saw him at the end. Saw me then, too. I can just remember going mad. Just after the fire – going mad at Bobby, at the thing that made him do it, at myself, at everything. I grabbed something. I tried cutting the Voice out of me. Hurting myself to show _I_ was in control. _Me_, not that malicious little shit." His voice rose a notch, began getting angrier, as events, feelings, actions flooded back to him. "The manipulating, cowardly shit, that killed my best friend, almost killed me, and for what! Fun? Because it was bored? If this is what we discovered with Bobby's research, then we're the worst damn race in the Universe!" He slammed his fist down on the bed, as angry tears spilled from his eyes. He took a shuddering breath, then put his head in his hands and cried. Cried because of grief at the loss of his friend; cried because of guilt at what they had inadvertently done; cried because of what the disastrous experiment ultimately showed.

The Director placed a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder, whispering a quiet condolence, before motioning for the Doctor to follow him from the room. The Doctor was only too happy to oblige.

As they entered the bright hallway, and the glass doorway had slid shut, the Doctor turned to the Director with bright, pleading eyes.

"Please. The antidote."

"The lab's this way, doctor. We can collect the antidote and you can be back to your ship. You have sufficient facilities on board I assume? Because if you need to bring your friend Rose here for a night…"

"No, thank you," the Doctor interjected, but gratefully nonetheless. "I'd prefer to keep her where I can see her for a while." The Director nodded, completely understanding. As they made their way down the corridor the fear and unease was finally engulfed by the hope that the Doctor was now feeling, though the guilt remained ever-present: a sour taste in his mouth, a sick feeling in his stomach, the thought that this was the worst time he could have picked to try and understand the depth of human emotions, as well as his own.

**End Chapter XIX**


	21. Chapter XX

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind 

**AN:** We're nearly at the end! Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews!

**Chapter XX **

He heard her exhausted sobs before he even entered the room. Heard how close she sounded to just giving up. But he also sensed, rather than heard, that she still held onto the hope that he would return, and that she was now exhausted simply for crying – and waiting – for so long.

The room smelled faintly of disinfectant – not the kind found in human hospitals that everyone instinctively associated with the ill and dying, but one laced with an aroma not unlike a fresh morning breeze, or the alpine smell of a spring forest – and of Rose. His keen sense of smell also detected the sweat and very faint iron tang of blood. He swore he could almost taste it as he made his way over to the cot.

Her hair was in disarray around her pallid face, spreading out messily on a pillow that was soaked in tears and the odd drop of blood. Moving more closely to the bed, he saw she had bitten her lip, and a small trail of crimson blood, now dried, travelled from mouth to pillow. Her head was turned to the side, towards him as he entered the room, and fresh tears slid slowly down her cheeks and nose from behind closed lids. Her eyes moved restlessly beneath them, as if she were deep in R.E.M. sleep, but at this time it was the only part of her that did move. Her arms and legs were still restrained, but barely. Her hands lay limply on the dishevelled sheets and open slightly to reveal deep, bloody cuts on her palms where her hands had been clenched tightly. He drew in a sharp intake of breath at that sight.

He took out the cool glass vial and syringe from a black pouch in his pocket, and tore his eyes from her unconscious form momentarily so as to prepare the needle. He ran a cool hand up her hot arm, finding a vein in the crook of her elbow, wincing slightly as he felt first the needle enter, then the antidote. Putting the needle aside, he rubbed the tiny puncture wound, feeling the too-slow pulse beating beneath his fingertips, feeling her life literally in his hands. Gradually he moved his hand towards hers as she moaned softly and jerked her head. He held his breath for five seconds that felt like a lifetime until she settled, then reached for the sonic screwdriver to clean up her hands. Once finished, he smoothed her damp hair from her face, suddenly needing to see as much of her as possible, fingers stroking her soft, hot skin more times than part of him knew was necessary. He silenced it. Then he took her left hand – the one that wasn't as badly cut and bruised – in both of his, every so often glancing down to see his thumb rubbing light circles across the top of her hand. He let it continue, and settled down for a long night, with only his thoughts and Rose's unconscious form for company.

* * *

Hope, hopelessness, guilt were fighting to take precedence inside of her amongst the pain. At the moment, hope and guilt were neck and neck, with hopelessness falling behind, and pain way out in front.

And then something happened to allow hope to obtain a renewed vigour, and charge ahead like a sprinter on the final straight. She was aware of something cool and… alive, pressing gently on her arm. Being yet again in the place where it seemed she purely existed without any tangible form, she couldn't look down and see, or even open her eyes, but if she concentrated really hard it became more and more real, more physical, and after a moment she identified this pressure as a hand. Sure, she was still unable to move, or see, or feel much more of her body than the arm being touched by the hand, but, she thought, it was a start.

And it wasn't just any hand.

After tens of times, maybe even hundreds of times, of holding his hand, every diminutive detail of the action had burned itself into her memory, and she recognised him now. The owner of the hand that seemed to float in this vacuum. The Doctor.

In the place where Rose merely existed, she felt as though she were floating; similar to the drunk kind of floating, only without the haze of alcohol. And she was sure she could feel a strange pulsing beat in the nothingness that surrounded her. As if she was sensing someone's pulse beating around her. But it was a strange, alien pulse. Nevertheless, it comforted her like nothing had yet managed to.

Then it was gone, and now she could feel a warmth spreading over her hands, healing cuts she wasn't aware of – at least not in a physical sense. The other agonising pains shrouded a few meagre cuts on her palms in its deathly grip.

All of a sudden Rose felt as though she had been plunged mercilessly into ice-cold water, and the pain stuttered momentarily, as if the Voice were breathing pain into Rose's body – her nerves, bones, her very existence – and hiccupped. Rose felt a mad giggle in what would have been her throat at this insane thought and imagery. But then the Voice caught its breath, and the pain returned with a vengeance. Though something must have winded it slightly, for Rose was sure it wasn't as strong as previously.

Fingertips brushed lightly across her cheek, and she did feel this with surprising clarity. Tiny electrical sparks that were pleasant and welcoming and sent miniature bolts of lighting and butterflies racing to her stomach reminded her of what happened the first time the Doctor took her hand, and numerous occasions after that, and of the warm pleasant feelings swirling inside of her when the Doctor gazed intently at her, and she at him, and she allowed herself the tiny pleasure of imagining there was more to his glances and stares, and gave in to the butterflies fluttering madly. These feelings now took superiority over the sparks of fire that shot down her spine that were agonising and unwanted.

And then a new kind of darkness overtook her; one that hadn't been revealed to her by the Voice, and judging by the screams she knew weren't hers, it had never been revealed to the Voice either. Until now.

**End Chapter XX**


	22. Chapter XXI

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind 

**AN:**Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews!

**Chapter XXI**

She was walking through the TARDIS. The walls and floor shifted fluidly, melting like the painting by Dali she once saw, of melting clocks. For some reason she didn't like that picture; it made her feel… strange. She didn't like them, but she couldn't explain to anyone when she first saw them why, and she probably couldn't now. These melting walls were having the same effect.

She walked into a brightly lit room, drawn inexplicably to the sliver of light emerging from the door like a moth to a flame. Her mum was sitting cross-legged on the floor, holding a book that first looked tiny, then grew, and it looked like her mum was a borrower, or thumbelina from the fairy tale, and this book was now half the size of her. Everything in the room at once was too big, and seemed to swell as it were a living, breathing monster. Rose tried to move away, but felt as though an invisible magnet was pulling her further into the monster's lair. Her head felt fuzzy, dream-like, disconnected with reality, and she didn't like it one bit.

"Come sit, little Rose. I'll tell you a story, a fairy tale," he mum said, in the voice parents use to entice children into sitting quietly and behaving. Except that now, it modulated slightly, distorted with the room, or by the room. Despite feeling scared, Rose sat next to her mum, on a floor that felt like squirming snakes that wouldn't support her weight. It did, but he mum was now growing bigger, swelling in size, rushing towards Rose at a speed that defied logic. Rose let out a strangled cry of fear and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, her mum was her normal size, though the room continued to breathe.

"Once upon a time," Jackie began, in the queer modulating voice, " a princess lived in a tall tower. One day, she was kidnapped by a gypsy rover, who she fell in love with, and stayed with for the rest of her life. Her family and true prince were very unhappy with the little princess. But still she travelled with this gypsy rover, and there were lots of dangerous creatures that hunted them down, like giants, and witches, and dragons, and big bad wolves, and a hundred other things." Rose listened to her mum speaking in a curiously monotone voice, the only pitch and emotion given by the unearthly modulation that was disturbing her more and more. She was dreaming, she knew, the kind of fever induced dreams that you have when you are young, and that terrify you into your parents bed, where it's safe and warm. But it was her mum who was scaring her, and she didn't know why she was so scared. Maybe because of the surrealistic nature of it all, and the fact that she seemed to have no control over anything that was happening. True, she very rarely did in real life, but the Doctor was now always by her side, or never far away, like a parent in the next room, and even if she had to brave a hallway full of dark, whispering shadows that reached out to her, he would be just around the next corner, hand outstretched for hers, ready to save her.

But not now. There was no loving parent; no wonderful, dependable, loving Doctor nearby, and this story was scaring her, and didn't look as though it were about to end nicely. She knew there was a terrible ending; a frightening climax; an awful moral that her mum was working up to, and she didn't want to hear it, didn't want to know.

"I don't like this story mummy," she whimpered, surprised to find she sounded like a young child. Her mum looked up from the book then, eyes thin red slits, hair suddenly black and mouth drawn back in a snarl. Rose's heart stuttered, then began thumping wildly against her chest, as if hammering to be let out, and she cried out in fright and disgust. Her mum took a deep breath and rose up, higher and higher, rushing towards Rose who squeezed her eyes shut against this monstrosity, tears escaping the closed lids, and prayed she was only dreaming, and would wake up.

* * *

She was standing in a bright field. The sky was so bright, in fact, that she had to squint, and could hardly make out any of her surroundings. Any attempt to open her eyes resulted in the feeling she got whenever she had tried to stare at clouds when she was little; the lids instinctively closed, but not before the world turned momentarily white, and her eyes ached and protested against the brightness.

Someone was near her. She whirled around, blindly seeking out the other person.

There was no other person. Not in Rose's opinion of a person anyway. Stretched between four metal-looking poles, thinner than paper with eyes and a mouth, was Cassandra, the last 'pure human'. Rose could barely make her out, but a brief glimpse was enough.

"You died!" she spluttered, the only coherent thought she could manage to vocalise at this time. The piece of skin emitted a sound that may have been a dry laugh.

"No, I just… disappeared. You're the last human, Rose, the last one left. Watch your planet burn. From the best view imaginable." Her eyes rolled to the side, pointing out something just behind Rose. She turned and through fingers that shaded her eyes saw the sun. Red and expanding. Expanding at a phenomenal rate; it covered half the sky already.

"Goodbye!" Cassandra said, and disappeared.

Rose whirled around, dimly aware of a feeling of disconnection, but more aware that she could feel the sun's heat on her back, burning her. Fear rose in her chest, threatening to burst out in a shrill cry of fright that Rose would have been ashamed off under normal circumstances, but these weren't normal circumstances. She didn't know what to do, where to go. She spun round, trying in vain to find the TARDIS, or the Doctor. As she did, she wondered if this was what Gallifreyans felt like before their planet was obliterated, wondered if this what they saw in their last moments. Then she wondered if this was what the Doctor thought as he imagined this happening millions of miles and hundreds of years away from him, and, crazily, she hoped he wasn't actually here to witness this. And wished she wasn't here.

Not knowing what else to do, knowing it was a dream but still terrified, she spun, faster and faster, until the field and sky and sun blurred into one, colors merging into a blur.

* * *

The central column appeared as a column of messy light, then focused. Blue-green light pulsed up and down. The Doctor was no-where to be seen. The TARDIS gave an almighty shudder, knocking Rose to the floor. She pulled herself upright, fighting against the ship's vibration, and clung helplessly to the controls. A wave of fear swept over her at the loss of control, one stronger than she had felt for years and years; since she was a little girl and one of her dolls had caught fire on one of her mum's candles.

She didn't know what to do. The TARDIS was moving – and it didn't seem right to her, it was shaking far too much – and the Doctor was no-where to be seen, and she didn't know how to work the controls. She felt panic taking over her, sweeping through her stomach, up her chest, clenching her heart, stopping her throat, so no sound but a feeble cry could escape. She blindly pushed buttons, pulled levers, turned knobs, hit the control panel with a panicked fury, but the TARDIS was juddering and crumbling and breaking apart around her. A wall melted inwards, a door exploded outwards, a support column expanded and engulfed another wall, the front door shook off it's hinges, and Rose was sucked out into the vortex, sucked into oblivion, falling, falling, falling…

…jerking upright like a zombie in a late-night TV horror movie, or a person plagued by a terrifying nightmare; jerking upright straight into an astonished Doctor's arms.

**End Chapter XXI**


	23. Chapter XXII

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-D

**AN:** Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews!

**Chapter XXII**

Rose was clinging desperately to the Doctor with such force he was afraid she'd hurt herself. Arms encircled his chest, holding him so close he could feel the unnaturally rapid beat of her heart against his chest, next to his own two hearts that were also beating far faster than normal. Her entire body shook with terrified, exhausted and feverish sobs, and tears slid down her cheeks onto the soft brown leather of his jacket.

He had been sitting with her, holding her hand, thoughts of guilt and grief chasing each other through the corridors of his mind, and wondering what the hell he was going to say to her when she woke up for a little over three hours now. He had never been good at comforting humans, or understanding human emotions – he had shown that when he took Rose to see the annihilation of Earth, not thinking of the effect it would have on a person who in the last 24 hours had discovered there were such things as aliens (one of which had taken her hand and saved her life, whilst others had attempted to kill her); travelling through space was most certainly possible, as was time travel; and she had been inside a ship that was quite a lot bigger on the inside than the exterior suggested. He had also allowed her not only to see her father, long dead in Rose's opinion, when she had never seen him before, but he let her witness his death. He had shouted at her and stormed out on her after she tried to save him, but he realised it was his anger at himself for not understanding the immense effect it would have on Rose and allowing this to happen, that was manifesting itself as disdain for her and the human race, and he was ashamed at himself. And she was right – he was going to go get her, and fix the timeline, the moment he returned to the TARDIS.

And if he really searched inside himself, he knew that Rose's admission that for once he wasn't the most important man in her life, had had some surprising effects on him, and was definitely a factor in his childish, domestic storming off.

Not just in complete horror and anger that Rose had done this, he was angry that he had let something like this happen: such a huge alteration to the timeline, with disastrous repercussions. It served as a harsh reminder just how alone he was in the Universe with none of his people to help him as they would have done, and he was about to leave the only other person in the Universe he now had.

So he was still thinking about these things when Rose yelled at him. Firstly, he was slightly shocked to hear that she regarded him as the most important man in her life. And the fact that she said 'for once' gave the impression that he had always been since they met – absolutely no memory or mention of Mickey the Idiot here then. That had stunned him quite a bit, and he had wondered when he progressed from Time Travelling Alien, to the Most Important Man. If he had to hazard a guess he may have said in Cardiff, 1869, trapped in a cellar, death seemingly imminent. The look they shared then, of a realisation that each had found who or what they were searching for, and the subsequent smiles and strangely intimate holding of hands, was a very memorable one. Though he had a sneaking suspicion Rose may have said an earlier date, maybe even a few hours after she'd met this strange man stroke alien, and had been unable to banish from her thoughts.

The second shock – though in hindsight, it shouldn't really have shocked him, as he knew Rose's penchant to state her feelings loud and clear, especially during an argument, and often without that excuse – was that she actually revealed this to him in the first place. Even with hindsight and (now) more knowledge of Rose's character, he knew there were some things she didn't disclose, preferred to remain hidden, and serious emotions and feelings regarding himself – even if he couldn't fully understand them in a way most humans could – was definitely the favorite to hide.

So this surprising outburst on Rose's behalf led to him demanding the return of her TARDIS key, and her further insightful knowledge of his character, which he didn't like for the sole reason that she held it against him in a argument. Truth be told, he was so immensely glad he had actually found someone he was able to connect with; someone who the TARDIS evidently connected with; someone who felt more of an equal to him than did some of his own people from time to time. And he had yelled at her, completely shutting her out and erecting a wall to rival the Great Wall of China around his emotions. At first, he refused to listen to, or accept, or attempt to understand anything being said to him. But occasionally and recently, and definitely now, he had decided to knock down the already crumbling foundations of the wall, and allow himself to listen a lot more to the voice and feelings that let his thoughts about Rose wander a little past the boundaries of companionship. Quite a lot past, in fact.

Right now though, sitting on the bed next to a very sick Rose, he asked himself for the hundredth time if he could have picked a worst moment to understand human emotions and his.

A kind of monitor beeped steadily and quietly, revealing in Gallifreyan that heart beat, blood pressure, resps and temperature were all pretty much normal, and that brain activity indicated R.E.M. sleep; she was dreaming, and had been almost immediately after he had administered the vaccine.

Her eyes flittered restlessly beneath her lids, and a few times she had jerked quite violently, or tried to lash out with sleep heavy arms, in the throes of a nightmare. The pharmaceutical researcher on Newtonia had advised him about that, so although it wasn't unexpected and he knew it was normal, he nevertheless felt completely powerless; a feeling he didn't like one bit.

So when Rose sat bolt upright with a strangled cry of fright into his arms, he was unable to decide if this was an improvement or not – though at least now he didn't have to sit idly by watching Rose in obvious pain and discomfort, and he could finally comfort her. What he'd say, he still had no ideas about at all. He decided for the time being at least, his presence was or more reassurance and comfort to Rose than an entire dictionary of words would be. So, sitting on the side of the bed, with Rose clinging tightly to his chest as though he were a life-raft in a tumultuous ocean, afraid to let go for fear of being swept away – which he supposed he was at the moment; metaphorically speaking at least – he gently rubbed soothing circles on her back and pressed tiny butterfly kisses into her hair, allowing the small, frail human to sob quietly into his shoulder.

**End Chapter XXII**


	24. Chapter XXIII

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-)

**AN:** Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews!

**Chapter XXIII**

As Rose's sobs gradually diminished, she drew up the courage to open her eyes and ascertain whether or not she was still dreaming. Slowly opening her eyes, she blinked at the sudden brightness of her surroundings, and she had to quell the rising terror inside of her as her immediate thoughts were that she was indeed asleep. Blinking a few more times however, the room came into focus, and she realised with relief and slight embarrassment that a combination of sleepy eyes and a white room that reflected the light back at her caused the initial shocking brightness, and not another nightmare.

A cursory glance around the room told her she must be in the Medical Bay, though it smelt nothing like Earth hospitals, more like a pine forest in spring. At the moment though, she couldn't actually remember how she got there in the first place, although she didn't feel disconnected anymore, which was a plus.

Furthermore, she had been clinging to the Doctor during this investigation of her environment, and the fact that he had not turned into a monster, swollen to twice his size and engulfed her, or completely disappeared, indicated she definitely wasn't dreaming. In fact, the Doctor clung to Rose with equal bone crushing intensity. And the relaxing circles he was rubbing on her back, and his slow, rhythmic breathing was beginning to lull her back to sleep. She shifted positions in their embrace slightly so her head was resting just below the Doctor's shoulder as opposed to on top of it, and she could feel and hear the alien heartbeat against her cheek, sending her further back into sleep. The Doctor felt her movement and ceased rubbing mid-circle, leaving his hand resting in the small of her back.

"Rose?" he whispered, not wanting to move too much and disturb her. She hummed in response feeling sleepier by the minute. "You okay?" he asked, louder this time, and Rose felt him speak rather than heard him, and a small shiver travelled down her spine.

"Hmm, yeah." She shifted further, tightening her grip around his chest, feeling herself drifting off. "I told it I could hear you coming back," she whispered sleepily, then fell into a peaceful, dreamless sleep before the Doctor could ask her what she meant.

Despite being very comfortable with Rose sleeping in his arms – and this time he didn't allow any small voice in his head to contradict him, or tell him it wasn't appropriate – he had to go stretch his legs and check on the upgrade, which had been temporarily paused whilst they were on Newtonia. He gently lowered her onto the pillows, then hesitated briefly, before placing a chaste kiss on her cool forehead and walking out of the room.

The next time Rose woke up she opened her eyes almost instantly. The lights in the Med Room had been dimmed significantly, and a strange machine that beeped intermittently cast off a neon blue glow over the right side of her bed, not dissimilar to that of the sonic screwdriver. The Doctor was no-where to be seen, but this didn't worry her.

She felt as though she had woken from a daylong slumber – which, she thought, she may well have done. However, her throat felt dry and raw, like the mornings after she'd been out clubbing and spent all night yelling over thumping music; her wrists and ankles felt sore too, though she couldn't think why.

For a while Rose lay in bed listening to the beeping machine and her own steady breathing, trying to remember what happened over the last two days, which, at the moment, felt as though she had lived through shrouded in fog. She knew there was some thought or dream buried at the back of her mind, in the place where certain memories lurked for months, years, decades. These thoughts rarely ventured forth to the front and light of her mind, preferring to fester in silence in the gloom, but one feeling crept out slowly. The sense that something was missing. Rose didn't know what however.

From past experience, she knew that the harder you tried to remember something, the quicker it slid away, so she decided to just lay there and let it come to her.

Rose's thoughts wandered. They wandered over to the beeping machine and looked at it for a while, wondering if it was monitoring her. Then she wondered, that if in fact it was, how was it going about it? As far as she could see there were no wires attached to any part of her. She supposed it was scanning her, like the sonic screwdriver did. Then this thought wandered a little further, and wondered why she was being monitored in the first place – she didn't appear outwardly to be injured, and she wasn't in any pain…

And that was when the memory shot out of the shadows in a flash of light, bringing with it a ghost of the remembered pain. Rose did recall something now. Pain. A lot. Terrifying, agonising, screaming-fit inducing pain.

And following close behind, in the way a faithful dog follows its master, was the memory of the cause of this pain. The memory of the Voice slithered out of the shadows of her mind, bringing with it ghostly whispers of past suffering and taunts, lasting all but a second in reality, and seeming to last an eternity to Rose. The monitor beeped more insistently, and she forced herself to breath slowly and deeply, ashamed of herself for panicking like that. If recollection was correct, she had refused to give in to the taunting and painful punishments over the last… day at least, and she was damned if she was going to give in to a mere echo of a Voice, a memory that her own mind conjured up. She closed her eyes, her face resolutely set, and continued to breathe slowly and deeply, as fragments of memories continued to make their way to the forefront of her mind.

**End Chapter XXIII**


	25. Chapter XXIV

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-p

**AN:** Thanks to everyone who still reads and reviews!

**Chapter XXIV**

The Doctor strode into the Med Room with a cup of tea and a tumbler of water. He had spent the last five hours pottering around the TARDIS waiting for the upgrade to finish loading and for Rose to wake up. The upgrade had been installed without hitch nearly four hours ago, and for once he couldn't distract himself with 'fixing' something for hours on end, so had come to the Med Room in the hopes that Rose was awake and he could finally talk to her.

At first glance he thought Rose was still asleep; she was sitting up against the headboard but her eyes were shut and her breathing was steady. As he neared, however, he saw she was awake, but just had her eyes closed, a resolute determination set on her face so that it looked as though she were giving a one-man pep talk. He cleared his throat when he was a couple of feet from the bed and she still hadn't acknowledged his presence. She jumped, and her eyes shot open. To begin with he was terrified that the antidote hadn't actually worked – her wide, shocked eyes had the initial appearance of those devoid of emotions, and though her cheeks weren't the candle wax color of previous hours, they didn't have their usual rosy hue. This frightened, emotionless look of Rose's seemed to last half a lifetime to the Doctor, yet it really lasted but a split second, and then was replaced with a happy smile and eyes that shone with joy, relief, thanks and something far more intense that had a mesmerising effect on the Doctor. Then he recovered, grinned back, and sat on the side of her bed, threading his fingers through hers.

"You look better," he said, and mentally kicked himself for coming up with something so lame.

"I'm gonna take your word for it; I haven't seen a mirror in a while," she said back, smiling, which then turned into a frown as her eyes met his. "Have you?"

"What are you talking about?" Rose nodded to the side of his face and the purple bruise that had formed without him even realising. She brought her free hand up to his cheekbone and ran soft, trembling fingers along the flesh.

"I did that didn't I? I can remember it, just. I was fighting you. You were trying to help me, and I kept hitting you over and over…" she broke off, her eyes filled with sorrow, though she couldn't tear them away from his. She started to drop her hand but the Doctor reached for it and held it against his cheek, feeling the steady human pulse beneath his cheek, needing to feel it.

"You were scared, you weren't yourself. I was afraid you'd hurt yourself you were thrashing about so much. I'd rather you punch and kick and hit me for as long as you need than see you hurt yourself," he replied sincerely, blue eyes gazing intensely into Rose's, who looked as though she were about to cry. "Besides," he continued, feeling he needed to lighten the mood a little, or she might not want to tell him what happened to her. "You punch like a girl, not at all like your mum." She gave a wry laugh and closed the gap between them, embracing him tightly. The Doctor returned the gesture willingly, wishing he never had to let go; he could hold her forever, protect her in his embrace from all the dangers of the Universe.

After a long while though, they did part. He knew she would never let him keep anything in the Universe from her if it meant a fascinating, awe-inspiring life in complete contrast to that which she had left behind to travel with the Doctor. All he could hope to do was protect her as best he could, and show Rose the absolute best time of her life.

* * *

The Doctor leant casually against the door frame to Rose's bedroom, watching her (through bruise-less eyes thanks to Rose's insistence to treat it) deciding which jacket went best with black jeans and boots, and a thin but fluffy sky-blue sweater. She finally decided on the black one, checking her reflection in the mirror one last time – "God I look like I haven't slept for a week" – before turning to the Doctor.

"I don't bite y'know. And I thought you loved barging in where you aren't asked," she said with a grin which he returned.

"Never get in the way of a woman choosing outfits. Or shopping. Or watching soppy movies. Or Ben And Jerry's. Or…"

"You finished? Coz I hear there's a sun about to be born, and the view's nothing short of fantastic," she said with a smile. The Doctor took her hand as they walked along the corridor, still not believing the transformation of Rose after just a few short hours. He had hardly been able to stop staring into her eyes; they were so full of different emotions it was like they were overflowing.

"Don't suppose there's a particular dress code or anything for watching the birth of a solar system?" she asked, and the Doctor was forced to stop remembering the look in Rose's eyes when she had realised he was there in the Med Room, and concentrate on the here and now.

"Nope. What you're wearing's fine." Rose gave a quiet, sarcastic snort.

"Yeah, the clothes are fine, it's me that looks bloody awful – I dread to think what I looked like before, if you say this is an improvement." The Doctor slowed then, drinking in every detail of the young woman in front of him. Her hair, freshly washed but not blown dry, hung in damp waves about her shoulders; she had applied generous quantities of concealer under her eyes to disguise the dark circles (which he had insisted were not as bad as she thought), yet still managed to maintain a perfectly natural looking skin tone that to the Doctor appeared more radiant than ever; and her eyes were bright and eager and determined and a hundred other emotions that for a time he had been afraid he wasn't ever going to see again.

"You look beautiful," he said, echoing a statement that he had used previously, when she had arrived in the console room in a gorgeous Victorian dress; a compliment that had slipped out before he realised, causing him to make a hasty excuse. There was no excuse this time.

Rose had turned to him when he slowed, watching him with puzzled eyes, and now opened her mouth with a retort on the tip of her tongue, the same one he had used an age ago. But the sincerity in his voice and more importantly, in his eyes, closed her mouth immediately. She knew better than to argue or tease him now.

"Thank you," she said instead, matching his gaze before he moved forward, tugging her along with him.

**End Chapter XIV**


	26. Chapter XXV

**Title:** Manipulation of the Mind

**Author:** Trustno1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who related things property of the Beeb. Story, other characters and the Voice property of my disturbed little mind :-D

**AN:** This is it! The final chapter! Or is it…? Because there are still a few unanswered questions; not many, but a couple that could give way to an epilogue of sorts, if people are interested. I'm actually happy with how it's ended, but would be equally happy to write a little epilogue to tie up a few loose ends.

Thank you so much for all the reviews; thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, especially those who reviewed many times, and gave me some very helpful pointers – thanks Dr Azaria! – it means a lot to a pretend writer like myself :D

Also, I already have the beginnings of another fic running around in my head after a rather annoying plot bunny disturbed me at work, so hopefully that will be up and running shortly.

Again, thanks for the reviews, and enjoy!

**Chapter XXV**

The Doctor and Rose sat in an enormous window seat on an observation station which had been set up by a species from a galaxy in an arm of the Milky Way, but who would become extinct a few millennia before even dinosaurs existed. The height of each of the 13 windows was about a storey, giving a spectacular view of the interstellar clouds from which the Sun would appear anytime. According to the Doctor, these particular clouds were about 200 light years across, but towered at least a thousand light years high; colossal clouds of incandescent gas, bright reds and greens and blues, with strikingly bright stars around them. The observation station was many light years away, but with an overwhelming view that had Rose speechless for longer than when she had first seen the Earth from above.

The depth and width of the windows weren't quite as impressive at around four foot each, but could quite comfortably seat a cross-legged human and a sprawling Gallifreyan. Rose was currently leaning back against the padded wall gazing at the stars, the bright and puffy clouds of gas, and what would soon be her Sun, and suddenly finding she had no idea how to tell the Doctor about what happened. She knew what happened – at least she thought she had most of it sussed – but now she had to actually go about it, her brain seemed to have frozen.

The Doctor leant against the opposite wall, one leg outstretched next to Rose, the other bent in front of him, staring not at the stars but at Rose. They had been like this for the last ten minutes, and he was worried she wasn't going to tell him anything at all.

"Why did you keep all those books and clothes and things in that long room?" Rose asked suddenly and quietly, breaking the silence, but not the tension, which now increased that little bit more with the completely unexpected question. "I can remember the room, and things in it, like that column at the end, and I can see you in my mind, talking to me. But I can't get any sound, it's just a picture. Like that crappy TV I had in my bedroom at the flat," she said with a wry laugh. " I know the Voice was talking as well, but I don't remember what it was saying then." Her brow creased in concentration as she tried and failed to recall anything further. She turned her head away from the window to look at the Doctor, meeting his distressed blue eyes. "What are they all?" the Doctor took a deep breath and began to continue where Rose left off.

"On the column is the only piece of Gallifrey I have even managed to find, which is now hidden at the back of a room in the darkest corners of the TARDIS with everything I could possibly find that reminded me of my home, my people, my companions – everything that reminded me how completely alone I was in time and space and the Universe." The grief in his voice matched that which had taken over his eyes, and Rose's heart ached terribly for him. And were it not for the fact that he used the past tense and she knew instinctively that he had more to say, she would have immediately interrupted him, and comforted him, telling him he wasn't alone anymore; that everyone had to grieve – especially the Doctor, who had lost more than she could comprehend. As it was, Rose remained silent and seated, soulful brown eyes gazing at his face that was turned to the stars and clouds now as opposed to her. She did lay a comforting hand on his leg that rested lazily at the side of her, and they both appreciated the simple gesture and contact.

"And then I ran into you, a little human from 21st Century London, unlike any other human I've ever met, and I've met thousands, believe me. And you weren't made for that little planet; you were destined for better things than working in a shop, and having Mickey for a boyfriend." He glanced up at Rose then, wondering if he hadn't overdone it a little this time, but she smiled back at him, sharing his knowing look. Sure, Mickey was a good guy, but he wasn't the Doctor, and never would be. "I never once went in that room since you came – never needed to. Like you said, it's better with two. Much better. And I meant what I said in Cardiff – I am so glad I met you, Rose Tyler," he said sincerely, his eyes never leaving hers and his hand, like in Cardiff, seeking out hers and interlocking their fingers tightly.

With the strength of the Doctor's hand in hers, Rose felt as ready as she'd ever be to tell him about the last couple days. She took a deep breath and began.

"It kept telling me you were gonna leave me. Over and over. It took every ounce of hope out of me and replaced it with guilt and pain. And it was always there – the Voice, the feelings, the pain. It was like nothing I even felt before; it was a dull ache, a throbbing pain and a sharp pain all at once. I could feel every cell in my body something. All in crippling pain. It only stopped if I listened. I did too, in the beginning – I didn't know what I was listening to, or realised there was still a part of me that was alive. And the first time it took me to the nothingness, the place where I just existed, but couldn't feel, or see, or touch, or hear anything but the Voice, that's when I really started to fight back." Rose's face, which had previously been slightly pale at the memory of the voice, and with eyes that still contained fear and guilt and pain, much to the distress of the Doctor, transformed into one of angry determination. "This… thing… was inside me, telling me things that deep down I knew weren't true – I could feel it. It was making me feel guilty, taking all of my hope away from me. And for what? To prove it was better than me? Better than humans? For fun?" The Doctor saw in her face the same thing that he and the Director had seen in Max Duffy; a pure anger at whatever it was inside of them that they had no control over, only Rose didn't dissolve into grief – she gained momentum, brows furrowed, staring into the Doctor fiercely.

"I refused to be told what to think, and how to think, by something that I can't even see, or touch or feel – when it itself doesn't have any senses, and can only survive in the mind or someone else, because it's that weak! I paid for it, for refusing, because the pain got worse the longer I ignored the Voice, but I knew I was still alive at least. And that you were coming back – I heard you. In my head, like I head the Voice – only not from the exact same place, not in my mind per se. It's difficult to describe, I'm sorry. But I knew I didn't have to wait too long. And I wasn't gonna give in without a bloody good reason. It's like terrorism," she said, her voice slightly less angry now, more contemplative, much like the Doctor was, contemplating what she had revealed about how she had heard him inside her head. But he didn't have time to think about that now, not with Rose on a roll.

"The point of terrorism is to install fear and terror into innocent people's lives by, for example, blowing up something or things and killing people who happened to get in the way of your opinion. Now, if you never got on a bus, or train, or plane, never went out into a large crowded shopping mall for fear that someone would have a strong opinion there, then they win. Terrorists win. It's especially difficult for people to not feel something if they are the ones who lost a loved one, but equally they are the ones that have to fight – you don't let them get to you no matter what. And I was not going to go down without a fight."

Rose stared at the Doctor with fiery eyes, breathing heavily after this long speech that had tumbled out of her from no-where. She hadn't intended to go into so much detail, but the words had a mind of their own and wanted to be told. Now she had finished though, her gaze and stare relaxed somewhat, and she was almost embarrassed at this outburst, not because of what she said, but more how she said it. The Doctor's gaze didn't waver though. He gave her the same penetrating stare as he had done at Downing Street and Utah; the one that darkened his eyes by a few shades; the one that made her knees weak and a while host of butterflies to dance wildly inside her.

And before Rose could begin to open her mouth and ask him if he was okay; before she even had time to blink, he had closed the small gap between them, cupped her face in his hands, and kissed her fiercely on the lips.

No rational thought entered Rose's mind in the few seconds the Doctor's lips were pressed against hers in an electrifying kiss; though the first sentence that managed to scramble itself into coherency was 'thank God I'm sitting down'. The second was 'that wasn't nearly long enough'.

The Doctor watched Rose's eyes widen in shock, felt her pulse race and watched, when he pulled away with a big grin on his face, as she bit her bottom lip as if trying (and failing) to hide a smile. He had a very hard time trying not to kiss her again because of that.

"Rose Tyler, you are absolutely fantastic!" he grinned, and she gave a small laugh at his utter madness. "And if I'm honest, so am I – 6 billion people on Earth in your time, and I find you! What are the odds!"

"Just lucky?" Rose asked with a smile, only a little uncertain as to where this outburst of the Doctor's was coming from. After all, he could get very enthusiastic at times.

"D'you know how many people would have given up, faced with what you were? Probably a third. At least. But you – " He gave a small laugh and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear before letting his hand rest against her cheek again. "Perfect," he whispered, more to himself than to Rose. Nevertheless she heard it loud and clear, despite her heart hammering loudly against her chest. She didn't care. She closed her eyes instead, and felt herself being pulled into the Doctor's strong, safe hug. She slipped her arms around his waist, laid her head against the cool, familiar leather jacket, and settled into his embrace that felt so natural, so right.

The Doctor glanced down at the woman in his arms with a smile on his face, before turning to the window and the spectacle in front of them – the three trillion mile long jet of rose colored gas exploding outwards from an interstellar cloud, signifying the birth of a new star. He heard and felt Rose's sharp gasp and breathed 'wow', but both kept their eyes on the window, and didn't move from their positions – the Doctor leaning against the wall, legs outstretched, Rose sat comfortably between, their arms encircling each other.

The Doctor adamantly told a certain voice (that was beginning to have less and less influence on him now) that this wasn't domestic. Not at all. This was… Rose. The voice seemed okay with that answer, and wisely decided to shut up, and the Doctor was also strangely satisfied at this simple answer. The only sound to be heard now was that of their combined breathing and the low, quiet roar of engines.

Rose broke the silence a few minutes later, if only momentarily.

"Thanks for saving me," she whispered, knowing the Doctor would know she didn't just mean this time.

"Thanks for saving me," he replied, knowing Rose understood exactly what he meant.

She hadn't ever truly thanked him for everything he had done for her, from asking her to come with him, to saving her countless times, to letting her see her father. Likewise the Doctor had never thanked Rose for saying yes, or saving him many times in many ways; they hadn't needed words to convey how much they meant to each other, allowing surreptitious and direct glances, or comforting hand-holding to do all the talking, often more loudly than some couples actually talked. But those four words spoke volumes for the Doctor and Rose, saying far more to each other than an outsider could have known. And both began to realise that in the few occasions they had really talked, they had understood a phenomenal amount; in those instances it was maybe too much information to listen to in such a small amount of time; so much to comprehend about another person, and their feelings, that it had scared them.

After the last few days, both believed they were now ready to reallylisten.

**The End…?**


End file.
